Equivalent Exchange
by Maiden of the Moon
Summary: Love may come at a cost, but it will always be equivalent exchange. [A collection of unrelated Elricest ficlets. Corny fluff & angst ahoy!]
1. Warm and Soft

**PRE-AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a collection of completely unrelated ficlets that are only being posted together so as to avoid what happened with all of my ZADR fics—a huge mass of really short stories posted separately, creating a gigantic waste of space on my bio. So. . . yeah. Enjoy! XD**

_**Disclaimer:** If I owned Full Metal Alchemist, there'd be a lot more kissin' and huggin' between my favorite Elric brothers. . . _

_**Author's Note:** I just got to watch the FMA movie for the first time today (in Japanese; I can't wait for the dubbed! The American VAs are SO GOOD!) and it sent me headlong into an EdxAl kick. XD XD XD I've always loved Elrincest, I just haven't had any idea of what to write. But here I go with my first attempt! Enjoy. :)_

_**Warnings:** Corny –n– fluffy incest ficlet (in the form of EDxAL— MWAHAHAHAA!), occurs after Al has his body back._

**XXX  
**

**Warm and Soft**

**  
XXX**

"You're so warm. . . so soft. . ."

Al squirmed; laughing beneath his brother's ministrations: chest stretching and constricting as Ed moved his hands across it, admiring it, tracing it, worshiping it. The muscles danced underneath his fingertips—the flesh was warm and inviting. "Of course I am, silly," the younger of the pair murmured, curling close as the moon leapt from behind a cloud, bathing them in silvery light. The child's hazel-brown eyes glittered with love as he pulled the gray blanket around their bare bodies to keep out the cold. "What else would I be?"

The bed squeaked; Alphonse released another giggle.

But Edward simply smiled in amazement.

"You weren't always so warm and soft, you know," he whispered, resting his head serenely against his brother's heartbeat, eyelashes tickling the pale skin. "When you were in the armor. . . your body was as hard and cold as ice." His nose wrinkled; he looked away in shame. "And I hated myself. . . because I knew how warm and soft you really were, and that I had taken that away from you. . ."

Silence fell for a moment; a heavy lull full of memories. Ed opened his mouth to continue down the familiar road—a road full of apologies and sorrow—

But Al shook his head, pulling his big brother closer as their noses brushed teasingly. "You cannot change who I am," he breathed, their long locks twisting and curling together. "You cannot change _me_, no matter how often you change my shell. You have to have realized that by now. . . ?"

". . ." Ed stared down at him with watery eyes— struggling for a minute to find something to say— before desperately wrapping his arms around that warm and soft middle; laying with Al chest to chest beneath the bedspread. "I don't _want_ to change your body; I _never_ wanted to. You are perfect the way you are."

"Warm and soft?" Alphonse smirked, apparently amused.

His big brother grinned slyly in response, placing a passionate kiss upon his lips. "Warm and soft."

**XXX**


	2. Failed

_**Disclaimer:** What could I exchange for ownership of FMA? _

_**Author's Note:** Another one inspired by the movie, but, hopefully, a little less corny. Even **I **was getting sick of all the fluff, and I was writing it! So here's my attempt to break up the sweetness with a bit of sour. XD_

_**Warnings:** Slight movie spoilers, mild Elrincest, Ed PoV._

**XXX  
**

**Failed**

**  
XXX**

I thought I could. . . but I failed.

And that, I think, is what made things worse. Not so much _that_ I failed, but that I actually put forth effort _before_ failing. That for once, I actually **tried** to forget my feelings for you; tried to give them to another. I thought that, maybe, if I could just love _him_. . .

Even though it'd still be wrong. . .

It wouldn't be as taboo as us, Al.

I mean, it was a good idea, right? He was just like you in so many aspects: he smelt like you, he talked like you, he smiled like you. Heck, he _was_ you, according to this screwed up world!

But. . . in **this** world, we were _not_ brothers. And I thought that—perhaps— I could love him like I wasn't allowed to love you, because of that.

I should have known it would be hopeless; that I'd never succeed; that I'd fail. Still, I tried anyway, for all of us—for this Alphonse, who was alone. For you, so that when we met again, I could be a _brother_. And for me. . .

Mostly for me.

God, I missed you, Al. I missed you so much, it was like my heart was constantly being torn in two. Slowly, excruciatingly. And living with one who looked so much like you, yet had no idea about us. . . it was. . . was. . .

. . . Hell. 

But really, I **did** try. _Really_. . . I honestly did. . .

And I utterly, truly, and completely failed.

I'm sorry, Al. I guess I'll never be able to stop loving you, even if I really wanted to. Maybe it makes me a bad person, a bad human, a bad brother—

But I can't help it.

I failed.

. . . and I don't ever want to try again.

**XXX**


	3. As Long as I'm With You

_**Disclaimer:** I'm not smart enough to come up with a manga or anime as good as FMA. . . _

_**Author's Note:** Another quick one-shot ficlet done by me in response to watching the FMA movie. XD Oh, the horror, the fluff, the corniness! _

Enjoy!

_**Warnings:** Pointless fluff, Elrincest, slight movie spoilers, HORRIBLE CORNINESS! (Cavities ahoy!)!_

**XXX  
**

**As Long as I'm With You**

**  
XXX**

"Do you think they're okay, brother?"

Ed shifted slightly, one amber eye peaking open. It glittered like gold in the bright starlight that poured through the window—the window that the second boy was staring out of: hazel-brown orbs glued to the night time sky, long auburn hair glistening in the glow. Slowly scanning his younger sibling with his tired gaze, the elder of the two smiled tenderly, lightly wrapping his arms around his brother's neck and holding him to his chest.

"I'm sure they're fine, Al," he murmured into the other's ear, resting his chin against his shoulder. "And they know better than to worry about us."

Alphonse hummed, unconvinced. "That doesn't stop you from worrying, though, does it?"

". . ." The older teen smiled softly; his little brother admired the weary maturity that lined Edward's young face. He looked so handsome. . . "Of course it doesn't. Though I'm not the only one guilty of that crime, it seems."

Al giggled lackadaisically as Ed pressed a teasing kiss to the hallow of his throat, but, rather strangely, quickly calmed— leaning back in his sibling's embrace; twisting his head and neck so as to stare up into Edward's eyes. He could see the moon within them. . . "Brother. . . ?"

"Yes?"

"Do you miss Winrey?"

"?" Edward glanced down in surprise upon hearing—what he was sure had been—a bitter note in Alphonse's sweet voice. "What do you mean?" he pressed cautiously, lacing their fingers together atop the bedcover.

"Do you miss her," the boy quietly repeated, gazing off into the distance with a solemn frown and lowered eyes. "I know you had a crush on her when we were small. . .so. . . do you ever. . . you know. . . _wish-she-were-here-instead-of-me_?" he squeaked, screwing up his face in preparation for the answer to come, set to wait out the awkward silence for as long as he had t—

"_Never._"

". . . ?" Al blushed in surprise; taken aback not only by the readiness with which the answer had come, but by the intensity behind the statement. It was so strong and so forceful, not even the smallest doubt could sneak through. Still pink in the cheeks, he lifted his chin a bit, chancing a glance at his brother's face.

It was gentle, yet firmly set— full of resolve and love.

"I miss Winrey, yes, because she was a good friend, a wonderful person, and a great mechanic. I'll never forget her, or stop caring for her. But wish she were here instead of you? . . . Never. Never ever," he breathed, enveloping Alphonse like their blanket. "You're too special and cute and funny to let out of my sight!"

There was a definite, pleased glow to the younger's cheeks, now. However, he pressed worriedly on—just to make sure.

"But you could be with her," Alphonse murmured seriously, though his face continued to shine in delight. "You could be with her in any time or world without being called. . . you know. . ."

Ed snorted. "Yeah, maybe. But that would take all the fun out of it, eh? After all, Winreys are fine, but Als are what make life interesting." He grinned brightly, kissing his brother playfully on the forehead.

. . . a beat. . .

But to the other's mild confusion, Edward still hadn't lifted his head— choosing instead to keep it pressed against Al's soft crown; breathing in the scent of his hair. Strong arms slid to hold the younger's middle and tightened around it. ". . . As long as I'm with you, I don't care where we are, or where we go, or what people say," Ed whispered. "As long as I'm with you. . .

Please, just stay with me."

". . ." Al flushed, cuddling closer and nearly purring like the cat he had hidden in the closet. "Always, brother.

Always."

**XXX**


	4. Birds

_**Disclaimer:** Mmm, nope. I don't think so. _

_**Author's Note:** Just a little parody my sick, twisted mind came up with. Figured I may as well post it here. XD_

_**Warnings:** Young Elrincest. Young, young Elrincest. _

**XXX  
**

**Birds**

**  
XXX**

Trisha glowed with pride, lightly pressing her fingers to her face. "Oh, you can't _possibly_ mean _that_," she giggled, though one could tell by her tone that she knew quite well they were telling the truth—and it was a truth she was thrilled to hear. (Granny, on the other hand, wasn't quite as amused. "I should certainly hope they don't," Pinako mumbled under her breath, chewing on the end of her pipe. "'Cause I don't think they're talking about to right boys. . .")

"But we DO," the first of the three gathered women cooed, ignoring the older female in favor of taking an appreciative bite of cake. The others nodded while sipping their tea, all dressed in their Sunday best. "Really, Trisha," the young mother nodded, "I am simply blown away! If only my boys were as wonderful as yours!"

(The auto-mail mechanic snorted.)

The brunette modestly blushed, though did appear delighted. "Oh, Nancy, your children are lovely. And you have so many more—"

"It's not a matter of NUMBERS, it's a matter of discipline," the second of the four interrupted with enthusiasm. "Really, Trisha, you must be a fantastic authority figure."

("Trisha? You've got to be kidding," the elderly woman drawled, oblivious to the rude glares she was cast. Instead, she stood and walked towards the window—looking out at the garden Ed and Al were sent to tend.

Her eyebrow arched.

The conversation at the table continued.)

"No, I do protest," Ms. Elric shook her head, still looking as pleased as she was flustered. "Really, you're giving me way too much credit. I admit that my children are fantastic, but it has very little to do with me. They were just born that way, I expect!"

(At the window, Pinako was having a hard time fighting off a smirk.)

"Then your husband must have come from an odd family," the last of the guests said decidedly, fiddling with her cup. "Because I have never seen brothers behave so well together! Why, my kids fight and bicker all day long. Never give me a quiet moment!"

"It is a little strange," Trish agreed with a smile. "They rarely fight, Ed and Al. Really, they get along so well, it's. . . well, I don't know what to compare it to! I'm grateful, though—I do hate to yell at them. They're such little angels."

(There was a muffled hiccup of a chuckle; the doctor began to fiddle with her glasses—wide eyes glittering with humor. "Angels. . . right. . .")

"Always so helpful, always so kind, always playing together. . . and they take such good care of one anot—!"

The boys' mom cut herself off in surprise as a loud _SMACK_ echoed through the kitchen; the four ladies turned just in time to see what looked like a mess of different colored hair— and a pudgy palm sliding down the window, fingers quivering happily.

There was a gasping, breathless, moaning, lingering, almost-silent giggle.

Pinako quickly closed the blinds.

Silence.

". . . what was that?" the one called Nancy inquired a bit suspiciously, exchanging glances with her friends. They all looked a little taken aback. . .

But rather than reply directly, the older woman simply shrugged; taking a long drag from her pipe. "Just some birds, I expect."

"Oh?" the lady sneered, clearly doubtful. "What kind, then?"

"Hmm," Pinako hummed, unfazed—as if calmly thinking it over. "Lovebirds, I expect."

And then she grinned.

". . ."

Flushing darkly, Trisha decided it would be a good time for everyone to leave.

**XXX**

_(A/N: Before anyone asks, NO, they weren't having sex in the garden. That's pushing it a wee too far if you ask me; I envisioned it as just some innocent kissing that went out of hand. And someone lost his balance and. . . well, you know. _

_But whatever floats your boat, I guess. XD)  
_


	5. DaRknEsS

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA. Put THAT in your circle and transmute it. XD_

_**Author's Note:** I found a beautiful archive of FMA doujinshi, as of late, and have been enjoying all of the Elrincest it has to offer. And, while it was a lot of fun, most Elrincest is rather angsty, so. . . ._

_  
Let's get angsty for a bit, shall we? _

This first one was inspired by the doujinshi **Deep Reverb**_. :) (Sorry about this, Roy fans. I love him too, I really do. But. . .)_

**XXX  
**

**DaRknEsS **

XXX

"_What the hell are you doing!_"

The blonde cried out in pain as he was thrown roughly against the wall, pinned between the cold plaster and a coat of rough blue cloth. He growled; gnashing his teeth and glaring heatedly up at the looming figure—the one holding his wrists at bay. Wild struggling wasn't helping. . .

Books toppled from a nearby shelf, falling like thunder against the floor, but neither the mess nor the noise would distract the Colonel. His liquid-black eyes remained as fixed and fiery as ever before.

Edward couldn't help but shiver; that hungry look . . . it frightened him. However, fear had never stopped him before. Heart speeding up, he thrashed his heavy boots and pushed against his captor with all his might. "LET GO OF ME, YOU BASTARD! _LET GO_!"

A soft chuckle echoed through the small office—husky and dark in nature. It made bile rise in Ed's throat. . . "Now now, Fullmetal," the owner of the voice breathed, allowing his lips to dance up his prisoner's throat. The mouth and words left a chill in their wake. "Don't be too hasty. You believe in Equivalent Exchange, don't you . . . ?"

The young boy snarled venomously, nearly spitting with rage as he wrenched as far from Mustang as he could. How DARE he even **IMPLY**—? "_I owe you NOTHING._"

"Really?" A cruel smile. Idle fingers darted nonchalantly out to toy with fair bangs. . . thick lashes fluttered lazily. "I'd say you owe me quite a bit. I've kept quiet, haven't I? I haven't told anyone why you REALLY want the Stone."

. . . _Why you REALLY want_ . . .

Edward felt a breath of fear catch in his throat; pulse quickening—sweat trickling down his clammy flesh. "Wha—what're you talking about? I need it to bring back Al's bod—!"

Fingers tightened painfully around his wrists; a knee rammed into his gut. The boy's face contorted in beautiful agony. "Ah—!"

Blood. . . it splattered in little droplets upon the officer's well-shined shoes.

But Roy didn't care.

Instead, he laughed quietly, slowly nodding in agreement. . .glittering eyes announcing the presence of the Ace up his sleeve. "Yes, you do. . . especially if you want to 'do' **_something like this_**, RIGHT?"

_Time froze._

"—!" Ed felt his heart stop, all feeling rushing from his legs as his eyes dulled in shock. His body went limp. Every ounce conscious thought came to focus—not on the situation—but on a single, horrible realization: 

'He **knows**.'

And all the while, the Colonel smiled—a finger darting out to brush away pesky flaxen strands. There was a moment of deadened silence, thick with horror and amusement. Then. . .

"If it helps. . ." Mustang whispered tauntingly into the alchemist's ear, "Shall I call you _brother_?"

Edward's world went black.

**XXX**


	6. Sometimes

_Disclaimer: Nope, nope, and nope. _

_Author's Note: This one was inspired by some images I saw on the otaku wallpaper website yesterday. It was also partially helped along by the Roy-talks-to-dead-Hughes-scene in the manga. You'll see how. XD _

Enjoy the dramatic angst!

**XXX **

Sometimes

XXX

Sometimes I'll look into the glass and see my past. My younger self reflected like a spell, dressed in bright red and dark black— bright yellow hair braided and automail shining as brightly as the moon. Cocky, confident, determined. Staring back at me with eyes as sharp as eagles, but with the sadness of a child.

And I wonder—fleetingly— where equivalent exchange was then. What did I get in return for the despair clouding those amber orbs?

_Loneliness?_

Sometimes I'll look into the glass and see my present: wearily standing there in my suit and coat, flesh-colored hands covered in protective white gloves, dark blonde hair pulled back in a high pony-tail— stray strands licking my sides. And I'll touch the glass with my fake fingers, taking comfort in the fact that even On the Other Side of the Door, I wouldn't be able to feel its coolness. But still, I long for my world. . .

The sad eyes remain, like an heirloom.

Sometimes I'll look into the glass and see my future—my hopes. With familiar scenery mirrored in the background, and the faces of the ones I love beside me. Around me. . . Germany gone, hopefully forever, with its strange advances and haunting doppelgangers.

He's with me, here; holding me, arms encasing me and chin against my shoulder. Whole and real and warm and all I've worked for—everything I've ever hoped. And he looks at me, in this dreamed state, and smiles. . . Smiles and calls me "brother," just like always.

I smile in return.

Then he's gone.

He vanishes from beneath my fingertips, just like always— the bitter reality crashing down around me once again. The exhausted misery returns.

. . . and sometimes, after that. . .

Just sometimes. . .

Sometimes, when I know I'm truly alone, I'll watch the rain. It's always falling after that vision, so I'll sit by the window and let it roll down my cheeks, salty and hot, until the golden skies have cleared.


	7. Compromise

_Disclaimer: I've got a cookie. Would that get me anything? Please. . . ? _

_Author's Note: Wow, this ficlet collection went from a bunch of sap to a horde of angst! How'd THAT happen? (scratches head) _

In any case, here's a little pick-me-up that my younger brother, a rabid Elrincest fan in his own right, suggested. This one is for you, Danny! XD

_Warnings: Some OOC-ness on the part of a certain "surprise" character, and pairings that the normal world would frown upon (incest being one of them). This is not to be taken seriously! This is supposed to be a humor piece, therefore things are pretty unethical. But in fanfiction, it's fun. XD_

**XXX **

Compromise

XXX

"Stop it."

"No."

"_I mean it_."

"No, you don't."

Silence. Lights flashed and glowed and sparkled around them; loud music thumping through the gym. Glitter fell. Streamers tore. Students bumped and ground like nobody's business inside of the broiling gymnasium. And amidst the chaos—well, actually, more like 'off in the distant corner of the chaos'—they stood, side to side, sharing a single glass of punch.

For the third time, the frustrated blonde swatted his hand away from her ass.

An eyebrow arched.

And (rather shockingly, for those who knew her well) a dark blush crept onto those pale cheeks, a color that clashed horribly with the tones of her tight blue dress. Lowering her chin, the young woman determinedly avoided his liquid-black gaze; ignoring those lustful eyes. Or, rather, trying her best to do so. Because she knew that if she looked him square in the face—for even a moment— her defenses would crumble.

"C'mon," he whispered again; husky, right beside her sensitive ear. (There was no way she could stop the shiver of delight that raced down her spine.) "Admit it, babe. You LIKE it. You WANT it."

She cleared her throat, but couldn't keep her voice from catching. "N—no, I don't—"

"The chemistry lab?"

Her cheeks flamed as brightly as the strobe lights.

"Oh, all right, so maybe I DO," she snapped, clearly annoyed. "But I'm not giving you any tonight, sir. This has gone far enough. If the army ever found out, they'd tear up my application!"

A chuckle; his warm lips brushed the nape of her neck. "No, they wouldn't. I've got friends in high places _and_ a rank of my own, this being a military academy and all. You'll _always_ be welcome to serve under me."

". . . I do hope you're talking in metaphors."

He smirked rather roguishly, a hidden finger tracing patterns up and down her lower back. "I've never been very good at literary terms; you'll have to define that one for me. Perhaps behind the bleachers. . . ?" The man gave her gloved fingers a teasing tug, flashing a 100-watt grin. Crude, but at the same time. . .

_Oh, God, she wanted him_!

And so, (as she'd always known she would,) the girl allowed herself to succumb to desire—and followed him with an eagerness that she could barely mask. After all, just because she was the school's top student—stoic, smart, and generally silent— that didn't mean she lacked a sex drive. Her's was just as active as every other teens. . . and who could resist a little fooling around at the prom?

Biting back a small smile, she permitted the man to pull her away, through the crowds; weaving to the back of the large gym, then out the double doors—down the hall (their shoes click-clacking excitedly) and out onto the football field.

Another world; just for them.

She swallowed a squeak of excitement and surprise as a cold wind blew through—crisp and sweet smelling; early fall. The leaves had begun to change colors; vibrant red hues dulled by the thin, misty fog. A full moon hung in the dark sky, lighting the grounds like a sun.

They were alone. At last. . .

Showing him a beautiful (albeit a bit shy) smile, the young woman allowed their lips to touch: hesitant, at first, but with quickly growing passion— fingers tugging desperately at clamps and buttons and zippers. He moaned; his back hit the frosty metal of the first set of stands; he moved to—

"Oh my GOD, Al—!" A hissed groan; oozing with lust and desire. There was the soft smacking of hungry lips on lips—the creak of desperate fingers clutching the supportive beams of the iron benches. "Just like— _aaah_!"

Cloth rustled as it was quickly shed; ripped off and moved aside.

"Nii-saaaaan," a second voice moaned, trailing his mouth and tongue teasingly down the first boy's bare chest, gasping out in pleasure as his partner's fingers slipped down the hem of his pants. "God, Ed! Oh my G— **Oh my God!**"

"_Eeep_!"

Both boys bolted apart (as did the other pair) upon noticing the newcomers—eyes widening with alarm and embarrassment. Only after a full minute of stunned nothingness did things start to register. . .

"Professor Mustang. . . ?" the first teen coughed, rebellious face scarlet as he tried to rearrange his torn tuxedo. "Riza-sempai? What the hell are you—?"

The second boy interrupted with a cough, looking respectfully away. "Um, Hawkeye-san, your dress. . ."

Riza—still in a state of semi shock— squeaked in horror upon glancing downwards, quickly gathering up enough of her gown to hide her loosened bra. "Shit—!"

An awkward hush fell over the four, all of whom remained rather scantly clad. Then. . .

"Edward. . . Alphonse," Mustang managed to choke out, still gaping at the two as if they were some sort of odd display at a museum (a fact that Edward had noticed and was snarling over), "aren't. . . aren't the two of you _brothers?_"

(Alphonse's round cheeks darkened; his sibling's hand tightened around his own.)

"Aren't you Riza-sempai's chemistry teacher?" Ed shot back readily, his long golden hair fluttering in the breeze.

". . ."

Al and Riza exchanged flustered glances.

". . ."

Edward and Mustang glared, defensive.

". . ."

Then the professor—looking slightly rosy—sighed.

". . . We won't tell if you won't tell."

". . ." Edward and Alphonse smiled.

And so the couples went on their merry ways.


	8. Homeless

_Disclaimer: Do I own FMA. . . ? That's a tough one. . . uh. . . can I call a friend? _

_Author's Note: Okay, I need to give my rant on Winry. So here it comes: _

_Generally, I like Winry. She's funny and it's great to see an anime girl get so fired up over something as tomboy-ish as mechanics. Seriously. And I'm glad that she and the Elrics are friends; they do need someone they can lean on and talk to. I'd even go so far as to say there's some brotherly/sisterly love there. That's all good, I heart it; I squeal during the third opening when little Ed spins little Winry around. _

_(Though I always squeal louder when little Ed and little Al don't even bother with the spin—they just go STRAIGHT DOWN TO THE GROUND, BABY! XD XD XD) _

_However, all that put aside, I strongly dislike the Ed/Winry pairing. In fact, out of all the possible FMA pairings, I think that's the one I dislike the most. I'm sorry, Ed/Winry fans, but there's absolutely NO DEVELOPMENT between them. Sure, once in a while Ed will say something like "I wish Winry thought about my human side" or Winry will cry for the both of them, but whatever moments they _do_ have are brief, feel forced, and spread thinly throughout the series. I mean it; there's like 5 seconds of potential (but rather weak) fluff in one episode and then, twenty episodes later, another moment or two. _

That just doesn't cut it for me. I'd much rather be a rabid fan of something that has a bunch of fan service. XD

_Anyway, that said, I did want to play with Winry's character a bit in this collection (as I doubt I'll do it very much later on. . .). _

**XXX **

Homeless

XXX

"Home is where the heart is."

My mother used to say that to me— humming the words to a nameless tune while she brushed tangles out of my hair. At the time, I found the saying rather silly: in fact, I'd laugh at it—laugh and say no, that's not right, I'm home right now.

This house was my home.

This house where mom and dad studied, Auntie Trisha laughed and baked, Gramma worked, Ed and Al and I played. All the people I knew and loved; my every day and night spent. . . That was home.

But. . . when mom and dad died. . .

Suddenly, the house felt emptier. Colder. No long full of fluff and sunny memories; everything was tainted red. Even the yellow paint on the walls seemed . . . different.

However, for all the corruption and pain, it was home. I moved on as best I could—avoiding the vanity where mom's brush lay, cold.

Then Auntie Trisha passed away, succumbing to sickness and despair.

In an instant, everything hardened—the floor, the ceiling, and every speck of dust in between. Shadows crept here and there throughout the night. . . they frightened me. And I was alone inside them, for Gramma began to work more—avoid the world and everyone within it. She had her own depression to deal with; more bills than she could pay.

Still, I had Ed and Al. And I clung to them. . . I clung so desperately.

. . . But they still went away.

He told me not to cry. He told me that they'd still come to visit, when they could. Even after the automail surgery, even after their quest began—they'd always think of me. And he'd never find another mechanic. _Nobody is better than you, Winry._

Sweet words; compliments that were (but never should have been) taken for granted. For I knew, I'd always known, that he'd had a schoolboy crush on me. Otherwise he wouldn't have tolerated hanging around with girls at all. He disliked them as a general rule; he told me they were idiots. _But not you. You can make wind-up toys explode!_

A 5 year old can say nothing closer to "I love you."

But at the time, I wasn't interested. I saw him as a friend; a brother; someone I could use as target practice. I wasn't as mature as he was, even six years later. I was too busy feeling sorry for them to realize that all he wanted was affection, not pity.

I love him.

I love him so much that it makes my heart hurt—yes, as a friend; yes, as a sister; but as even more: as a lover or a wife. I worry about him constantly; I labor endlessly over his automail; I want everything to be perfect for him. I want everything to work out for him.

Then I want him to come home. Home to me.

. . . but he never will. Because I'm not his home.

Neither is Resembool, nor Central, nor the dust and ashes of the house he and his brother were born in. His home is where his heart is.

His home is with Al.

Al . . . _his little brother_. . . that he kissed so sweetly my own breath was stolen; longing and love and lust so strong that it brought me to my knees; whispers and moan so sensual and affectionate that I nearly began to cry—hidden in the gaps between dusk and moonlight. . . a secret that I wish I'd never seen, yet yearn to call my own.

. . . I should have looked away. I should have looked away, or left, or spoken, or died right there. But I didn't; I couldn't; I was overpowered by their feelings . . . _I wasn't able to move._ So that night will remain with me forever— engraved into my memory— his tender expression beneath the stars. . .

The tender expression that might have belonged to _me_; the place beside him that I would have occupied if only I'd told him—if only an instant sooner. . .

If only, if only, if only.

What if, what if, what if.

Sometimes I wish that I had returned his feelings earlier, so that he wouldn't have looked elsewhere. I wish that I hadn't been so stupid as to try and talk to him that night; live in blissful ignorance forever. And then I wish that he'd give me that smile—just one more time. That small grin that said _so_ much, and yet, nothing at all. It was mine, once. And those lips _could_ have been mine; just as the warm eyes and the worn body that lay sprawled and bare and beautiful beneath the moon might have been.

I could have been his home, and he could have been mine.

But I was stupid. He was not.

My heart is lost forever within him; his stands beside him cased in steel.

He found his home.

. . . I am homeless.

**XXX**


	9. Kittens

_**Disclaimer:** (checks under her bed) Dammit, they escaped—!  
_

_**Author's Note:** I enjoy printing out forests of fanfics and reading them during study hall at school. Today, I ended up reading one where Ed and Al had adopted a bunch of kids, and—I couldn't help it—I squealed at the mental picture. _

_  
They'd make such good daddies. XD XD XD_

_So anyway, that's where this one comes from. And screw the whole issue of homosexuals adopting (which is stupid anyway)—Ed's the Fullmetal Alchemist! He can do whatever the hell he pleases. XD_

_Enjoy the fluff! _

_(PS. Also, please note that this is SLIGHTLY AU—it sorta ignores the existence of the movie.)_

_**Dedication:** For my dear friend Summer, who I owe a hell of a lot to, and has been ever-so-kindly reviewing my FMA work recently. I heart you, Su-chan! XD_

**XXX **

Kittens

XXX

For as long as Edward could remember, his little brother had wanted a pet. Badly. A goldfish, a bunny rabbit, a stray butterfly he could catch in a jar. . . Though Alphonse had to admit, a cat would be his first choice—"they're so soft and cuddly!"— anything, really, would do. After all, Al wasn't known for being overly picky. A pet was a pet— just so long as it was his. (Well, he'd share with Nii-san, too, of course.)

Privately, Ed had always blamed this fervent desire on their childhood; the lingering memories of when he was the one solely in charge of their small family. The guilt of helplessness must have somehow metamorphosed into a need to be the elder for a change: to be in charge of caring for something delicate— to (Heaven forbid) be completely responsible. Perhaps for repentance . . . ?

If that was the case, he concluded, it was best to let Al have his way. Healthier for him to do this; forgive himself; let go. And so, Edward tried to humor his baby brother.

But things were just getting silly, now. Seriously, how old were they? Definitely not six or seven. They were _adults_—with jobs and bills and other such mundane duties. That, and they lived in a flat with a huge sign posted over the door which read "**NO PETS ALLOWED**."

"Why do you do this, Al?" his older brother would ask with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation as his younger sibling trundled in (yet again) with a tiny bundle of fur in his arms; wet but smiling in the wake of the storm. "You know we can't keep them all." Their apartment was already full of suspicious sounding 'meows.'

In response to this, Al's face (as always) fell—a sorrowful frown pulling down on his full pink lips as he pushed sopping bangs from his eyes. "I know that. . ." he'd mutter, cuddling the cat as if it were his firstborn. "It's just until I can find them homes. . ."

(Not for the first time, Edward wondered if Alphonse didn't so much have an inferiority complex of some kind, but a maternal one—he certainly did love playing with children at the park. . . But he'd quickly push the thought from his mind.)

And soon The Battle would begin again, as pointless as it ever was. The two of them would bicker and exchange excellently worded points (of which Ed's were better), but all the same, Edward would quickly surrender— as he was helpless to The Looks and The Crying and The Threats of Empty Beds. Thus, he'd grudgingly allowing Alphonse to place the kitten with the others in the (former) closet, which Al had (in his "infinite spare time", it seemed) constructed into a Kitty Paradise.

Things went on like that for a while—a long while, really—until one inevitable day, they ran out of closet space.

That, and the landlady caught on.

. . . when 47 kittens invaded the air vents.

Needless to say, the Elrics were forced to say goodbye to Tabby, Popsicle, Nina, Spot, Rascal, Max, Tiger, Scooter, Nubbins, Izumi, Mr. Tibbles, Butterfly, Midnight. . . Al spent half the night locked up in his room, pouting something horrible.

Ed decided to leave him be for a time; to soak in the memories of his furry darlings. It was better to let him get it out of his system, he'd leant, than to offer comfort that no one wanted to hear. So he waited for his little brother to come to him—enjoying the fact that he could actually _read_ the newspaper for a change, rather than donate it to the cats' use.

And that was how Al found his Nii-san several hours later: comfortably seated on the plush green couch, glasses placed precariously on the tip of his nose, deeply engrossed in an article about a new alchemic formula being researched out East.

Alphonse swallowed rather loudly from the hall, steeling his nerve. _'Okay, Al, you can do this. . .'_ It was now or never.

He cleared his throat.

Ed's attention was his in an instant.

"There you are, Al. . ." Edward straightened, slipping off the spectacles with a graceful sweep of his automail fingers, setting his things aside with a concerned smile. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently, apparently taken aback by the set expression upon his brother's young face. "Do you need some water? You don't want to get dehydrated—"

The elder of the two made to stand, but Alphonse stopped him with a firm shake of his head. Steeling his posture, the young man clenched his fists and said: "Brother, I've decided."

". . ." Ed blinked, apparently unsure of how to react to this rather vague news. "Um. . ." Coughing slightly so as to mask his exasperated confusion, he offered a probing: "Decided. . . what, exactly?"

"I've decided," Al announced determinedly, eyes jamming shut with emotion, "that I. . . that I— _I want to have a baby!_"

. . . Dead silence.

And when Alphonse dared to chance a glance at his brother, he was rewarded with the strangest look he'd ever seen on Edward's face: some horrible mix of shock, bewilderment, mortification, and amusement.

"Er, Al," the other finally managed to choke out, cheeks pinking slightly as he lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, "I know it's been a while since you've read an anatomy book, but it's—uh—not _physically possible_ for us to—"

"I know that!" Al squeaked, flushing a bright burgundy; nervous fingers toying with his own long locks and gloves. "I **know**. . . I meant. . . adopt. . ." He shrugged, still flustered, curling and uncurling his toes. "I like kids and. . . and I think we'd make good parents. . ."

". . ." Ed didn't reply for a moment, instead looking his little brother slowly up and down. ". . .Children aren't kittens, Alphonse," he murmured quietly—and Al knew he was being serious because Edward almost _never_ called him by his full name— "Brats require a lot more care and looking after; time that we don't have in excess. We can't make a commitment we can't keep."

"But we _could_ keep it. . ." Al mumbled defensively. "I only have a desk job at the military. I could come home early, or work here. You have research grants. They won't send you off to war or anything. And it's not like we're traveling any more."

Edward's face didn't betray what he thought of these statements. "What about money and space?"

"We have more than enough money put away, and earn plenty each year. I've done the calculations," he added brightly, before glancing away again. "As for space, we have a spare bedroom. And my room—it's not like _I_ ever use it."

Well, that was true.

". . . hm." Ed hummed, stretching on the long sofa—fiddling idly with his reading glasses. Snow had begun falling outside the window; he watched the large white flakes with dark amber eyes. "You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

The other flushed.

"Can I ask why?"

". . ." There was a brief moment of hesitation—it encased them like a woolen blanket— and then Alphonse, for the first time in nearly ten minutes, looked his brother square in the face. "I've always liked kids. . ." he bit his lip, "but I didn't think about it until I saw these little boys in the rain a few weeks ago. The night I found Gingerbread. She was hiding in a gutter by them—I tried to give them money, but they scampered, all frightened. And I thought. . . I thought about _us_," he admitted.

Edward's fingers stopped their toying.

"I thought about us," Al repeated silently, "and what it felt like to be without parents. I was mad at myself for forgetting. . . I wanted to help them even more than I wanted to help Gingerbread. I mean, she was a kitten, but. . . they were. . ."

He swallowed, close to tears.

And Ed, in turn, sighed; tightly pinching the bridge of his nose as if annoyed. ". . .

. . . _oh_. . ." he then grumbled, blowing out his cheeks, "what the hell. Fine."

(Later, this exact moment in time would affectionately be labeled the moment that Hell froze over.)

_Fine._ The word echoed endlessly through the small room, filling every crack and corner with its spat sincerity. And Al, in response, could do nothing but blink like an idiot for a whole minute. Because really, Edward agreeing— ? So easily—? _'Did he just—!'_

But soon, the situation registered.

Eyes widening to their fullest extent, Alphonse gaped, open mouthed, at his big brother—who was gazing nonchalantly off into space with that patented 'I'm-Only-Doing-This-For-You' expression which fooled no one. "Whaa—**_really_**—?—!" The younger man squealed in delight, launching himself at Edward with enough force to knock Armstrong to the ground. Consequently, the pair fell hard: toppling and tangling upon the rug—Al kissing every inch of Ed that he could reach.

"**_Thankyouthankyouthankyou!_** Oo, you won't regret it, brother!" Alphonse cheered again, straddled over his (now very disoriented) Nii-san, all glitter and hearts and stars. "When can we go see the kids? ("Um. . .")When can we go to the_ agency? _Can we adopt_ twins?—_ ("Al—!") _Can we adopt _**brothers**What age do you think we should look for?("I dunno— Al, calm down!") _Oh_, I want a little girl, too, please! ("Al, they're **not kittens**, we can't have 47 kids—!") Then we can buy her_ dresses! And toys! We'll need toys!_ ("Seriously, Al, breathe!") And clothes and more food and more plates and_ I want to pick out names! _Can we pick out names, brother?_ Soon? _("Er, I guess—?) _**I can't wait**!_"

A giggling, cheerful hush fell as Alphonse suddenly remembered his burning lungs, taking two deep breaths and intentionally collapsing on top of Edward; curling affectionate arms around his lover's middle.

"I love you, brother."

Ed blushed (like always) but offered his lopsided smile just the same. "I love you, too."

"_Can we have 10 babies? Please?_"

"**_Al_**!"

**XXX**

**OMAKE:**

**Al:** _(runs into the adoption center, hearts in his eyes) _EEEEE! XD _(begins glomping random kids)_ I want this one, and that one, and this one—!

**Ed:** o.O Al, they're not kittens; we can't take them **all **home!

**Huge Mass of Homeless Children:** _(look up at Ed with wide, tear-filled eyes; bottom lips trembling)_ . . . ?

_  
_**Ed:** . . . Oh hell.

And that's why half the population of Amestris now calls Edward Elric, the fearsome, proud, Fullmetal Alchemist. . . Daddy.

Hughes would be proud.

**XXX  
**

_Heehee_. ;)


	10. Reflection

_**Disclaimer:** Last I checked, nope. But maybe now—! (checks) . . . Curses. _

_**Author's Note:** I've had this idea in my head for a while. So. . . here I go! _

_**Warnings:** Implied. . . um. . . well, you know. Lemony-stuff. (blush) And slight movie spoilers. _

**XXX  
**

**Reflection  
****  
XXX**

People used to ask me why I did it. Why I grew my hair out; donned his clothes; clapped my hands just like he. "You're not Ed," they'd say, sounding pained as memories enveloped them. "You're not Ed, and you never will be."

As if I needed reminding.

I know I am not Brother; I could never hope to be him. I could never be as brave, or strong, or determined, or. . . or anything. I could never be him. And I don't want to be.

. . . at least, not for long.

Sometimes I need to be him. Sometimes I need to fool myself. I _need_ to, or else I might die.

_That_ is why I dress as him. So that when 'sometimes' comes—as it more and more frequently does— all I have to do is look in the mirror, and I'm no longer alone. I can pretend he's here; I can pretend that he's the one looking at me: piercing my soul with those eyes of molten gold; his tresses cascading in waves down his arms, framing his face—the bright hue reminding me of summer sunlight.

I can see him, if I squint—watching me from where I stand. Dressed in his black shirt and tight leather pants, red coat draped over his shoulders. . . white gloves that he readily loosens; whispering softly to me: murmuring words that ring through my ears like silent breaths of wind.

A shiver races down my spine as though someone were touching me there.

And suddenly, the body I'm in is not Alphonse's. Alphonse cannot be seen, but Ed, for once, can. Edward can be felt, too— he's the one that is stroking me, running fingers down my chest, through my bangs, over my limbs. . . caressing all of me. . . wanting all of me— _claiming all of me_—!

I can hear him; I can hear myself—hissing and groaning and moaning Brother's name as his amber orbs glow from my mirror, increasing in beauty and power until—!

. . . My hands are sticky.

And I wake up.

I'm me again, standing hot and cold and sweaty and naked in front of the looking glass, blinking in confusion. Nothing seems right for a minute; the whole world is tilted. And in those brief moments of confusion, I always wonder, if just for a second: '_Where did Brother go? Did I scare him away?_'

But no. . .

No, I didn't scare him away. I've never had the chance to—never gotten the opportunity to disgust him with my feelings or actions, because he's not here. He never was here; it was only me.

. . . Only me.

And I know that. I've always known that; no one needs to remind me. Because I'm not sick or crazy—no matter what anyone says or thinks. I realize that I am not Edward, and never will be.

But. . .

But if I can't pretend— even for those brief, brief moments—that I'm with him, _near him_, **_in him_**. . . I think I'll die. I really, _truly_ think I will.

Because, after all, you can't live without a heart.


	11. Equivalency

_**Disclaimer: **Is this a trick question?**  
**_

_**Author's Note:** Another one inspired by a fic I recently read. Sorry, again, can't really remember which one. . . but essentially, someone spikes the punch at a military party and Ed and Al steel off and. . . uh. . . well, have sex in a hallway or something. _

_Oh, the effects of alcohol. _

_Anyway, I just thought it was a fun idea, so I wanted to play with it, too! XD_

**XXX **

Equivalency

XXX

It was supposed to be a joke. Nothing serious— after all, they always did dumb things like this. All it was meant to be was a bit of fun to tease the newbies, or whoever else was stupid enough to take a glass of punch from Havoc.

It was supposed to be a joke. Just a trivial trick; the State-hosted parties were SO BORING, after all. Absolutely nothing amusing to do or see, other than watch boorish men and snotty women— patrons of all shapes, colors, sizes, and dullness— talk of politics. Well, either that or observe hardened soldiers giggling over juvenile pranks like Havoc's. The mischief-makers would hide in the corners with smirks on their faces and bottles of vodka in their gloved hands, slopping liberal amounts of the alcoholic sludge into every random fluke of sparkling juice they could find. Sure, they were part of the military; they HAD to be in this stupid ballroom, whether they wanted to or not: but because of that, what was wrong with spicing things up?

It was supposed to be a joke. At its core, a little prank to get back at Fullmetal for being such a prick all of the time. One might even call it a ploy to make him to relax. That, and they so desperately wanted to trick the clap-happy runt into acting incredibly stupid in front of a whole bunch of people. Drunkenly stupid, to be precise: maybe trip over himself a couple dozen times, make a bit of a scene. Something small, insignificant, but all the same embarrassing—so that they could tease him about it until the following year. That was all they wanted.

. . . and privately, they prayed that he wasn't an angry drunk.

In any case, the men were excited. Unusually so. So enthralled they were by their evil and the weight of anticipation, that when Edward finally arrived—uncomfortably annoyed in his uniform of gold and navy, dragging his little brother in toe— his fellow officers saw no harm in nearly _forcing_ a glass of the spiked liquid down his under-age throat.

All according to plan.

. . . But a thirsty Alphonse downing a couple shots of the drink _hadn't_ been expected.

Similarly, no on had even considered that Edward might actually end up _liking_ the horrible taste of vodka on his tongue.

And nobody had been prepared to see the brothers consume 5 wineglasses **each** before pausing.

Really, all the men could do was stand there, gaping— jaws dropped and mouths wide in a poor attempt to stop the boys before they really hurt themselves; hands weakly outstretched in imitation of decisive movement. . .

But before the soldiers could find their voices, the two blondes suddenly froze: looking at each other from over the rim of their tumblers. Their eyes were bright and oddly glazed, cheeks cherry red and pink lips slightly puckered. Ed's metal fingers twitched.

And then they fell to the ground.

Together.

Kissing.

. . . quite passionately.

A pause.

. . .well, at least he wasn't an _angry_ drunk. . .

Still, the men gawked— unsure of what to do or say or think as random scraps of clothing began to fly up from the floor. In fact, their shot brains seemed incapable of processing anything other than the same startling revelation: apparently, Edward (and Alphonse) were rather horny when drunk.

(To which Hawkeye—after later being let in on this insight by a horrified Mustang, Havoc, Brenda, Fury, and the rest— responded (quite eloquently): "No shit.")

It was supposed to be a joke. Mainly, a little prank to get back at Fullmetal for being such a prick all of the time. One might even call it a ploy to make him to relax. And if that had truly been their motive (they had to admit, as they tried to pry the surprisingly well-suctioned siblings apart, that they weren't really sure anymore), they had succeeded extraordinarily well.

And hell—there was no way Ed would _ever_ live this down.

. . . unfortunately, though, there would be no one left to tell the tale once Edward sobered up and had his way.

Equivalent exchange prevailed yet again.


	12. Hubris

_**Disclaimer:** I don't own FMA, nor do I own the FMA fangame, "Blue Bird's Illusion". (But I REALLY want it when it comes out! PRIDE ED ROCKS MY SOCKS!) _

_**Author's Note:** English class makes me weird in the head. XD _

_**Warnings:** THIS IS A POEM. Also, it has character death, implied incest, and PRIDE ED. (If you don't know what that means, do a google image search. I'm sure you'll find what I'm talkin' about. . .) _

**PS.** Anyone who doesn't know what **hubris** is fails English! ;) Kidding. But seriously, if you don't know, please don't ask me—just look it up in the dictionary!

**XXX **

Hubris

XXX

And I watch him

My brother

Who is not my brother

Softly

Moving

Forward

Not a sound;

Not a breath

Dressed in binding black

Silent; cold

With eyes of gold

Which glitter like rubies

And malicious intent

**X**

And I watch him

My brother

Who is not my brother

Swiftly

Reaching

Outward

With a touch;

With a glance

Killing cruelly

Screaming, crying

The soldiers dying

His pale skin tainted

A crimson red

**X**

And I watch him

My brother

Who is not my brother

Turning

Quickly

Towards me

With a lick;

With a nip

Of his drenched fingers

Lips; cruel, wet

Beaded with scarlet

The hue of the markings

Covering his body

**X**

And I watch him

My brother

Who is not my brother

Who promised to protect me

Who promised he'd be with me

Who promised he would love me

Coming

Quickly

Closer

With a grab;

With a grasp

The one who stole my brother

Steals from me a kiss

Killing us with hubris

Then laughs as I fall soundly

With the others

To my death

**XXX**


	13. Truth

_**Disclaimer:** I own FMA not, nor do I own the Bluebird's Illusion fangame in any form. (DAMMIT!) _

**Author's Note:** I found an amazing translation to the BBI fangame on **Midnight Banshee-san**'s livejournal site, which I cherish dearly. (I love you, Midnight Banshee-san! (glomps) Thank you so much for giving my deprived self a great BBI fix! XD)

Anyway, this little ficlet was inspired by the much beloved **Pride!Ed** ending. I tried to stay as true to the actual end as possible, but for artistic reasons (and the fact that I've never actually SEEN the thing play out), it **DOES****VARY**_ from the actual ending. Still, I hope you enjoy. _

_  
More Pride. . . more dead Al. . . angst. . . in my Elricest collection. . . _

_It makes me sad but, still, so happy. (sweat drop) _

_  
**Warnings:** An attempt at **present tense**; I refer to **Envy** throughout this fic as a '**him**,' just because it's easier to use 'him' than 'its'; **PRIDE!ED**. Some **spoilers** for the **BBI** game, I suppose. _

_  
Also, someone asked about the definition of **hubris**—I repeat, look it up in a dictionary. Even if you haven't covered it in school yet, I'm not giving you the answer! (And despite popular belief, I'm young too, so don't give me that! ;) ) XD However, I will help with finding **Pride pictures**. Do a google image search for 'Pride, Ed, FMA' all together. You should get something then. If not, then just expand a little ('Pride, Ed, Fullmetal Alchemist,' etc.) :) Hope that helps!_

**XXX **

Truth

XXX

"Don't be so cold. Don't you have _any_ feelings?"

Envy frowns slightly at the oblivious figure beside him, mildly frustrated by the other's stoic stance: eyes as gold and empty as the desert landscape. Flaxen hair, which shines a color similar to that of the sunlight, flutters in a dry breeze; but other than that, Pride does not move—choosing instead to watch the tall, white building in the distance; soulless stare firmly fixed on a distant woman.

There is a pause that Envy can only assume is full of thought on his companion's part. Then—

". . .with us. . ." Pride finally murmurs, voice as steady and lifeless as the rest of his new body. His gaze remains glued to the woman, however, who seems to be chatting heatedly with another man. "What. . . is the relationship between _us_. . . ?"

". . ." The second homunculi arches an eyebrow, balling an irritated fist against his hip. Hadn't he _already_ answered that irksome question? _'What IS Pride's problem?' _"I **said**," Envy began to repeat, snarling in frustration—

But pauses mid-sentence, unable to continue. For it is during this moment that he notices an annoying sort of hurt somewhere in the deep vicinity of his chest—watching this pathetic puppet strain for _something_; something that Pride **himself** is unsure of. ". . . have you really lost all of your memories, little Fullmetal alchemist?" he whispers, unable to keep the pang of regret out of his voice.

Pride turns slightly, glancing at his partner from over his leather-clad shoulder. Red tattoos glimmer in the sunset like blood. "Fullmetal?" he echoes in his deadpan lilt. "Who. . . who is that. . . ?"

And then there is sympathy. Only a small amount, but it's there; for even Envy can remember portions of his past—portions he'd be lost without. ". . .how uninteresting. You were always so sensitive to the word 'little' before. . . " Envy blows out his cheeks, shrugging in a disinterested way—before forcing himself to smirk. "But never mind. It doesn't matter either way."

The younger homunculi, as usual, does not reply to this—he has no words to say. Instead, he moves away, turning his back to the far-off scene.

. . . Turning his back, but yet. . . ! Envy watches him oddly, noticing a peculiar force in the graceful movements, as if Pride is trying _not_ to look.

_Trying_. . . ?

He smirks. ". . . how ironic," the elder purrs after a minute of confusion, finally catching on. "Is it that you're not _willing_ to remember. . . ?" Unwilling to recall the gruesome death of his caring superior, his loving friends, the brother he cherished more than life itself. . . ? Not to mention all of the others who had suffered because of him. . . "Is that it, little Fullmetal alchemist?"

Pride does not rise to bait, of course; nor will he ever. Pride simply exists—dangling somewhere between life and death. It is a habit Envy finds annoying. . . and rather frightening. _'If I lose whatever humanity I have, will that happen to me, too?'_

A beat.

"What should we do?" the blonde inquires softly, his back still towards the military offices. Envy considers this an unspoken request, and decides to comply before he accidentally shows his colleague a hint of weakness.

"You want to go already?" the first verbalizes, crossing his arms nonchalantly over his chest. "That's fine, there's nothing here for us. Let's go." And he starts off.

But. . .

Instead of following as he always has before, Pride lingers in the taller male's wake, casting one last glance behind him. It's as if he's unable to find something he'd lost. . . ". . ."

". . . hm?" Envy finally notices the other's hesitation with a hint of surprise, stopping a few yards away once he's realized he's alone. "Pride?" he calls back, whirling on a stone to wave towards the second. "What is it—?"

Envy gapes—for there is a moment; brief, but unmistakable; when he swears he sees a tear in the other's eye. Then, with just as little warning, it's gone.

". . . it really is. . . time. . . to leave," Pride whispers; more to himself than anyone else; before spinning away in a flurry of amber locks. '_It really **is** time to go. . . and whether this is love. . . or hate. . . it can at least be used to pass the time during this long life. . . _

_. . . until the end of the world._'

The scuffling of feet falters. . . slows. . . then stops, burning eyes watching the blazing sky. '_There **is** something. . .' _"In order to gain anything. . . one must first give something. . . of the same value." The words fall from his lips like a spell, like a river; once begun, unable to be stopped or slowed. "This . . . is alchemy's first law. . . of equivalent exchange."

"Eh?" Envy, in the midst of hopping from rock to rock, pauses, glancing at his brother from over his shoulder. "You say somethin,' Pride?"

Pride shakes his head no, then—once the other has gone on ahead—hears himself breathe:

"There was a time. . . when we believed that to be the world's one. . . and only. . . truth."

**XXX**


	14. Chalk Dust

_**Disclamer: **(insert poorly performed Puss in Boots accent here) Is not mine. _

**Author's Note:** I frequently haunt the Elricest livejournal site, and have seen a few of these sort of posts there, recently—'sentence long' fics. I thought they'd be fun to try (they're a lot harder than they look!), so here I go!

_**Warnings:** Randomness. Each sentence stands alone—some are **anime** related, some are **movie** related, some talk about **Pride Ed** from **Bluebird's Illusion**, a few mention a fan character created by **COFIE-SAN**: **Vengeance** (AKA homunculi Al). (PS. Vengeance does not belong to me, though I have been playing with the character a lot recently. All praise Cofie-san for his creation!)_

_And, of course, **ELRICEST**! XD XD XD _

**XXX  
**

**Chalk Dust**

**-A Collection of FMA Sentences- **

**  
XXX**

**X**

**Smile**

It wasn't so much that he'd (finally) remembered his past, or that he'd successfully preformed alchemy, or even the sight of him feeding bits of the Stone to his revised brother—the shock was that, for the first time since Edward Elric's death, Pride was _smiling_.

**X**

**Memory  
**

And yet. . . despite all of the snarls and swears, Hoeinhiem couldn't help but smile at the scowling teen; in his mind, he'd always be the toddler singing "Up, papa, up!"

**  
X**

**Storm**

Though he'd always pretended to hate them, Alphonse secretly loved stormy nights: for they gave him an excuse to crawl into bed with Edward.

**X**

**Jealousy**

It wasn't that Ed was _jealous_ of Al's new girlfriend, it was. . . no, he really was just jealous.

**X **

Star

While growing up, Al had always believed that a falling star could grant your wish—but there had been many stars and many prayers over the many years, and he still hadn't found his brother.

**X**

**One More**

And as they fell together to the floor—moaning and touching and oh-so-needy—, they couldn't help but think: '_Really, after everything else, what's one more sin?'_

**X **

Mine

It wasn't until he was 16 that Alphonse realized that Edward, whenever warmly calling him 'brother mine,' always seemed to emphasize the latter portion of the term.

**X**

**First Prayer**

'_Please_,' he prayed, watching his little brother's innocent, sleeping face, '_please protect us from what we want.'_

**X**

**Frustration**

He wasn't angry that he no longer had a body of his own; rather, he was frustrated that he could no longer feel his brother's.

**X**

**Sensory Deprivation**

Edward hated his gloves—they were hot and scratchy and didn't allow him to feel anything— but the Elric brothers did everything together, so if Al couldn't feel, neither would Ed.

**X **

Acceptance

At first there had been shock, then disgust, then understanding; and as Roy watched the blushing brothers kiss goodbye as Ed parted for work, he began to wonder why he'd ever thought of them as wrong.

**X**

**Affection**

Trisha had always been pleased by how affectionate her sons were—but still, they wondered what she would say if she could see them now.

**  
X**

**Closing the Gap**

After having been separated for so long, all they wanted was to be closer. . . closer. . . closer. . .

**X**

**Musings**

Standing idly by his grave, Vengeance's mind began to wander—life as a suit of armor, as a human, as a homunculi. . . and he vaguely wondered if he'd ever get to die and stay dead.

**X**

**First**

Anything they experienced, they always experienced together _first_—and the young brothers couldn't understand why kissing and sex and love would be any different.

**X**

**Bluebird's Illusion**

Mother had once told him that bluebirds were a sign of happiness, but Edward always seemed to find them whenever his life was due to take a turn for the worst.

**X**

**Pastime**

Whenever they were in a playful mood, the Elric's favorite pastime was to kiss in the hidden corners of the library— then see how long it took the thoroughly flustered employees to muster the courage to kick them out.

**X**

**Forever**

"I'm too weak to be alone. . . I _need_ to be with you. . ." he whispered into the resurrected boy's chest, soulless amber eyes rimmed with tears.

**X**

**Death**

Nothing had ever been able to keep them apart before—not alchemy, not Gates, not even other worlds; so when the time came to truly say goodbye. . . he simply couldn't do it.

**X**

**A Little More Practice May Be Needed. . . **

Al had a lot of free time nowadays (what with their travels being over and all), and liked to spend a great deal of it knitting sweaters his brother—which was fine, really, except that Ed was still having a hard time figuring out where the third sleeve was supposed to go.

**X**

**Babies**

Every night, Izumi would quietly enter their room, kiss their sleeping foreheads, and whisper: "Goodnight, my babies."

**X**

**Mother**

The night before Izumi died, Edward and Alphonse finally found the courage to enter her room, kiss her forehead, and whisper: "Goodnight, mom". . . before running like hell in the opposite direction.

**X**

**Perfect**

Saturdays always began the same way: a pancake breakfast, followed by reading penny novels on the couch, finishing with their bodies tangled on the floor, clothing scattered everywhere.

**XXX**


	15. Leftovers

_**Disclamer: **Yeaaaaaaah, no. _

**Author's Note:** My friend Su-chan enjoys challenging people, and has thus presented me with a few scenarios she dared me to write. Never being one to back down from a 'test of skill,' I accepted. And here I go! ;)

**Challenge One: **Use the line "And thirty minutes later, we ATE on that table!"

_Enjoy. XD  
_

_**Warnings:** Implised sm3x —n— Elricest. MWAHAHAHAHA!_

**XXX  
**

**Leftovers**

**-AKA: The Su-chan Challenge Part I- **

**  
XXX**

As much as I love my brother, I hate him, too. I really, really do. And I mean this with the best of heart, because I know there's not a brother in the world that could top mine. But really; never have I met a full-grown man who so vehemently despises milk, who so obstinately ignores others advice; who—

"BROTHER, I _MEAN _IT!" _Smack! _

"Owwww—!" Edward rubs his pink cheek indignantly, blinking down at me with hurt amber eyes. (I pointedly glare the other way, trying to return to my baking.) "What was _that_ for, Al?"

"You KNOW what it was for!" I quip in annoyance, brushing past him with the intent of reaching the cupboard (without, for once, getting groped). "_Keep your hands to yourself_."

Ed, in a form so masterful that every toddler in the world should be jealous, pouts horrendously; arms crossed, brow furrowed, and bottom lip so far out that one could trip on it. He leans reproachfully against the kitchen table, jarring the linen cloth I'd spread out. "Why?" he inquires with a whine; fiddling, irritated, with the cuff of his suit. "You know you like it. . . !"

Blushing, I glower. "It's not a question of whether or not I _like_ it, Brother," I then retort, exceptionally curt, pulling a pan of rolls out of the oven. "It's a question of timing. Fuhrer Mustang and Colonel Hawkeye and half a dozen other military co-workers of yours are going to be here in under an hour, and I still haven't finished making dinner!" I pause, casting him an aggravated stare. ". . . you **could** help, you know."

"Are you _really_ sure that you want to ask me for my help?" he smirks slightly, supporting himself against the half-wall that separates us, the kitchen, and the dining room. "I believe I just made things _worse_ last year. . ."

(A moment of consideration; that fire HAD been bad. . .)

"You did that on purpose," I accuse coldly, slapping down a breadbasket full of now-cooling brown biscuits. "You're just lazy!"

"_Moi_?" Edward gapes in 'absolute horror,' brushing gloved fingers against his own chest. Then he grins, undaunted by my fury. "Oh, c'mon Al, don't give me that. You know I couldn't cook to save my soul—we've lived together since you were, what, a newborn? Besides," he adds in gruff undertones, picking up a stray fork and playing with its tongs, "I hate this shit. _And_ you're the one who volunteered to host the pre-party banquet, not me."

_That's it. _

"Shut up!" I snap, bashing a fist against the counter between us. Ed jumps in slight surprise, looking shocked; I use the moment of silence to collect myself and take a steadying breath.

A pause.

". . . okay, fine," I grudgingly admit, after the moment of heaviness comes and goes. "I'm the one that volunteered for this; I have no right to get mad at you for not helping. But if you could PLEASE just KEEP your PANTS on. . . !"

Brother laughs; throwing his head back so that his long, loose ponytail flutters in a self-made breeze. "'Keep _my_ pants on'?" he repeats with a grin a mile wide—pointing leeringly down towards my own bare legs. "Like you should talk!"

"Well, I don't want my dress pants to get dirty!" I counter, flushing brightly and moving to hide my boxers more completely with the flowery apron Winry had bought me as a joke. "I'll put them on later!"

Edward smirks easily, forever playing the 'prince of cool.' "Suuuuuure you will," he lazily drawls. "And Auntie Pinako is the best looking gal in Reizenbool."

"I'll be sure to tell her that you think so," I reply coolly, turning away to toss a salad. (And to hide my own smile as Ed makes a choking sound.) "Now please, Brother, either help me set the table or get out of the way. I only have 50 minutes to finish th—" I cut myself off with a gasp, a moan, as Brother slips around the kitchen corner and pulls me close, rubbing our hips. The salad bowl slides through my fingers in shock; luckily I'm holding it directly above the countertop. "Br— brother. . ."

"I'll help you set the table," Edward whispers huskily into my ear, pulling be slowly away from the kitchen, "but first _you_ have to help _me_ with a chore. . . we are alchemists, you know; equivalency. . ."

"Brother—!" I try to groan, "We don't have tim— ti— _ahh!_" But the words become stuck in my throat, transforming into whimpers of need somewhere between my larynx and mouth.

"Don't worry, it'll be fine," Ed purrs, golden eyes bright with desire and love as he pushes me gently backwards, hands trailing down to touch—! I fall against a hard surface with a gentle _thud_; fingers gripping a slippery, pallid cloth without thinking. All of my blood rushes from my brain; racing towards. . . "The pot roast needs another half-an-hour or so, anyway."

**X**

As much as I love my brother, I hate him, too. I really, really do. And I mean this with the best of heart, because I know there's not a brother in the world that could top mine. But really; never have I met a full-grown man who so vehemently despises milk, who so obstinately ignores others advice; who can so completely wipe my mind clean of common sense and leave me screaming for more. . . !

. . . Or just screaming, such as when the doorbell rings and we're both still trying to clean up the mess we've made.

But. . . perhaps I 'hate' him most because he _always_ seems to be right. (It's a frustrating trait in many people, I'm sure you'll find.) He found the Philosopher's stone, like he said he would; retrieved my body from the Gate, as he'd promised; we even managed to complete dinner after having wild sex in the midst of chaos, just like he had assured. So I guess I can't stay _too_ mad at him— though there were still a few things I wish I'd have had a chance to do before our guests' arrival.

. . . like change the tablecloth, for instance. . .

Because yes, thirty minutes later, we ate on that table.

"Leftovers" and all.

**XXX**

_. . . THAT IS SO NASTY! (Is thoroughly amused with herself, her "wit," and her ficlet.) _

Anyway, hope you all enjoyed it, too! XD


	16. Inside

_**Disclamer: **Nope. Not really. _

**Author's Note:** My friend Su-chan enjoys challenging people, and has thus presented me with a few scenarios she dared me to write. Never being one to back down from a 'test of skill,' I accepted. And here I go! ;)

**Challenge Two: **Use sheep. Yes. . . sheep.

_Enjoy. XD  
_

_**Warnings:** Elricest. And playmates. ;)_

**XXX  
**

**Inside**

**-AKA: The Su-chan Challenge Part II- **

**  
XXX**

"I CANNOT believe this. . . This is fuckin' insane!"

Al said nothing as Ed grumbled, his brother's voice echoing oddly through his own metal body. There wasn't much to say, really—because Edward had pretty much summed it up. It was "fuckin' insane," and Alphonse knew it.

But being bitter about things wasn't going to make this experience any better.

". . . it's not SO bad," the younger boy tried slowly, a few sour minutes later. "I mean, _I've_ done this before and. . . well, okay, getting dropped off early sorta bit, but. . ." Al trailed off, falling completely silent as Ed popped off his armored head, poking his own head out through the resulting hole.

"WE'RE WITH THE DAMN _SHEEP_, **AL**," he ground out, looking around the packed train cart with flashing golden eyes. A few glassy blue pairs stared dully back at him, dirty yellow wool rustling as the mob pushed against the walls. "The SHEEP! We don't even constitute as luggage; we're freakin' livestock! Mutton! _Balls of string_!"

Alphonse sighed, shifting a bit so as to reposition himself— ("_Ack_! Al!")— and consequently causing Edward to topple back inside his armor. "Stop screaming, Brother," he reprimanded gently, fixing his helmet with steady, gloved fingers. "You're scaring the sheep."

It was true. Their fluffy companions were beginning to make quite a bit of noise, pressing closer and tripping over one another. It was smelly, loud, and rather annoying. Edward had to literally gnaw his bottom lip to keep from screaming.

"What a time to run out of money. . ." he snarled resentfully, curling into a ball in the deep reassesses of Al's dark armor. "Can't afford anything more than a damn luggage pass. . . Mustang's been holding out on us—I hear some third rate newbie got a first-class ride to Central last week!"

"He told you he'd have paid for seats if we waited for a day," Al reminded, trying not to lurch and jostle with the train's spastic movements. It might hurt Ed to be thrown around like that. . . "But you said we **had** to get back today."

". . ."

He knew he'd made his point when he heard Edward blow out his cheeks, grunting some inaudible curse under his breath.

A long moment passed.

And then there came a tapping from inside the steel shell. "Al. . . ?" the elder Elric called, rapping a wary automail finger against his brother. "It's been two hours since we boarded; can I come out yet? I'm sure they're not going to be examining the luggage anytime in the near future. . ."

Alphonse shook his head without giving the comment a second thought, continuing to sit perfectly still. "No," he then verbalized for the other's benefit, carefully nonchalant about answering the question. "You can't come out yet. Be patient."

"But Allll!" Ed whined, knocking a bit harder. "It's hot in here!"

"Then take off your clothes."

. . . _Woah._

From inside the armor, Ed's face flamed; recoiling instinctively in surprise. THAT had come from nowhere. "Al!" he gasped, cheeks on fire. "Wha—?"

"Take them off, if you're hot," the younger boy repeated calmly, though his voice had considerably softened. "But I don't want to let you out yet. I. . . I like knowing you're inside of me," he admitted, albeit rather shyly. "In the only way you _can_ be while I'm stuck in this body."

. . . By this time, Edward felt his entire body was about to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. (Even Al swore he could feel the heat radiating from him. It made him smile, secretly.)"Al. . ." Ed began, but paused to clear his throat. "Al, I. . .

I'm really horny, now."

Silence.

And then Alphonse began to laugh—laugh so hard that he fell to his side, 'head' toppling: providing Ed a chance to escape. But he didn't: he was to humiliated and irritated to move. "_Oh, shut up_. . ."

Of course, Al didn't. He only laughed harder. "Way to ruin the mood, Brother!" he gaspingly chortled, batting away a few sheep who tried to poke their curious heads inside of him; quickly putting himself back together. Ed growled at this snorted comment, but didn't argue or pout. In fact, rather oddly, this somewhat awkward exchange didn't deter him at all: when Alphonse finally stopped giggling, Edward eagerly chose to pick up where they'd left off— standing cautiously and softly murmuring into the darkness of the domed helmet. "C'mon, Al. . . it's only fair—_equivalent. . ._ I've been inside you all day. I want _you_ inside of _me_ for a while."

Alphonse quieted, entranced by the beauty and lust in his sibling's husky voice. (How did he do it? How could he _always_ be so undeniably sultry. . . ?) "B—but Brother, the sheep. . . and the people. . . ! What if they hear—?"

"Ignore the damn people, they won't hear. Especially with all of the stupid sheep milling around—they make plenty of 'background noise,'" Ed grinned, smiling excitedly. After all, he was **so** close to getting what he wanted. . . his pants were already unbearably tight. No, dumb livestock was _not_ going to ruin _anything_ for him. "As for the sheep themselves. . . eh. Padding. It's all sheep are good for, anyway."

If Al had had lips to lick, he would have done so now—gasping involuntarily as Edward placed a warm kiss on the inside of 'throat.'

"_I love you, Al_. . ."

Alphonse couldn't take it anymore.

So he opened up his chest plate—

And the two switched places.

**XXX  
**

_I both feel bad for—and am kinda jealous of—the sheep. I wanna watch, as well!  
_

_Eh. . . I'm just horrible. XD  
_


	17. The Cosplay Song

_**Disclamer: **I own ZIP._

_  
**Author's Note:** My friends Ryan and Su-chan and I came up with the basic idea of this. . . then I went and perfected it. ;) Enjoy!  
_

_**Warnings:** Nothin', really. 'Cept silliness. XD_

**XXX  
**

**The Cosplay Song**

**-**_To be sung to the tune of "If You're Happy and You Know It"_**- **

NOTE: All things in parentheses show what hand motions you should be doing, the stuff in quotes is what you should say when doing it. I know they're stupid, and I know I could have done a dozen more characters. But this is what I wrote and I like it. I hope y'all do to. And I also hope you have fun! XD

_**SING IT!**_

**  
XXX**

If you're Ed and you know it _(clap like Ed; "clap")_ your hands

If you're Roy and you know it _(snap; "snap")_ your hands

If you're Al and you know it—and you really wanna show it—

If you're Al and you know it _(be armor Al, hiding a kitty in your chest cavity; "eat" (or "hide," if you don't get the "eat" joke. ;)) )_ a kitty!

**x**

If you're Riza and you know it _(point fingers like a gun, move as if shooting; "shoot") _a gun

If you're Hoho and you know it _(make legs with your fingers, have them walk across your arm; "leave")_ your sons

If you're Winry and you know it—and you really wanna show it—

If you're Winry and you know it _(move your arm like you're throwing something at someone's head; "chuck")_ and wrench!

**x**

If you're Hughes and you know it _(whip out an imaginary picture, people, you know how it's done! XD; "show off")_ your kid

If you're dead and you know it _(pose as one of the homunculi—you chose which one; "rise")_ again

If you're Scar and you know it—and you really wanna show it—

If you're Scar and you know it _(big, waving arm movements with 'jazz hands'; "'splode")_ some brains!

**x**

If you're Ed and you know it _(clap like Ed; "clap")_ your hands

If you're Roy and you know it _(snap; "snap")_ your hands

If you're Al and you know it—and you really wanna show it—

If you're Al and you know it _(Human Al time! Hug/pet a kitty, rub its imaginary ears, etc; "pet")_ a kitty!

**XXX**


	18. Pointless

_**Disclamer: **Yeah, right. _

**Author's Note:** My friend Su-chan enjoys challenging people, and has thus presented me with a few scenarios she dared me to write. Never being one to back down from a 'test of skill,' I accepted. And here I go! ;)

**Challenge Three: **Vampiric Elricest involving cacti, old people, and God in Arizona. (I kid you not.)

_Enjoy. XD _

**Warnings: **Elricest. (C'mon, people, haven't you figured that out yet? ;)) Oh, and vampirism.

**XXX **

Pointless

-AKA: The Su-chan Challenge Part III-

XXX

The church had been abandoned for over eighty years, desolate and silent in the Arizona desert. Its bell had finally rusted, its doors were firmly jammed, its white-washed walls had long since become yellow and gritty from the sand residue that tore at the old paint. Even the once-beautiful stained glass windows were falling apart, nibbled away by the wind. It had been abandoned completely: by its priest, then his family. . . by the people, then by God.

Yet, for whatever reason, it was never torn down. Perhaps from nostalgia; perhaps from fear of blasphemy; perhaps because very few people bothered to pay it any mind. As it stood alone on the edge of the tiny town, it was only ever thought of once in a great while—when the elders of the village would glance out at sunset, remembering when their parents would bring them to evening mass. It had been so lovely, once; with a garden of magenta flowers and blood-red roses. Yet, just as they had, the building became decrepit—and the flowers had long since been choked to death by drought and cacti and tumbleweed.

Choked and killed. . . choked and killed. Everything choked and killed.

But nobody spoke of that.

A breeze rustled through, restlessly toying with the twilight clouds; gusts of dust swirling to life in the barren streets. One or two men sat on the porches of the one or two stores that the settlement had to offer, a dead game of checkers between them. It was another endless night in the ghost town of Amestris.

And then. . .

One man, stunned by something out to the west, kicked another, who nudged a third and a little boy. Shock painted itself upon their faces within seconds as they all glanced in the indicated direction; jaws dropping an inch. Cigarettes burnt to cinders; eyes were rubbed for mistakes. But it wasn't an illusion: there were two silhouettes in the distance, outlines that sands and shadows couldn't hide.

All was silent as the trudged closer, their horses calm and glassy-eyed.

They stopped before the men; bodies cloaked in red and black, the wide rims of their cowboy hats hiding their faces. But their eyes shone through all the same.

"What is the year?" the first asked suddenly, voice quiet; husky. A flutter of gold rustled beneath his cap when a second wind whipped through.

For a moment, the village men simply gawked. (Visitors? In their town? What on Earth could anyone want with them?) But after a drawn out minute, the child piped: "It's 1931, sirs. But. . . how could you not know?"

The second stranger chuckled, his tone gentler, but just as soft. "We've been traveling many years. And the dates blend together, when you're as old as we are."

"You don't look that old," the boy objected, grinning toothily. And such was the innocence of children, unaffected by the differences adults latch onto. "You look younger than my Daddy."

"Appearances can be deceiving," the first replied roughly, tugging briskly on his horse's reigns. The pair began to trot slowly off again, when—

"Wait!"

Both riders paused, glancing backwards. Eyes of sharp gold and glistening silver shone through the creeping night. The man who'd spoken hesitated, then called—a little desperately—:

"What are you doing here? We've no money to find—in our pockets or in our earth. We cannot help the government. And there are no outlaws for miles. We're nothing but a desert town; we don't even have beds to offer you. What could you two possibly be here for?"

". . ." The two strangers exchanged glances, as if considering what to tell the man. Then the first spoke. "We're here for your church."

And they continued on their way.

**X**

**  
**"It's been years, hasn't it, brother."

The first did not respond as they walked down the cobwebbed aisle, movements illuminated by the dusky moonlight that pushed through the spider-webbed glass. Their footsteps echoed through the sealed room; golden eyes swayed back and fore, eventually fixing on the rusted crucifix before them. The second also noticed the cross and hummed, removing his hat and touching his own. It glittered on his throat like a gem. "Amen."

"Amen," the first repeated, retrieving a pistol from its holster and aiming it upwards, towards the face of Jesus. He paused, waiting. . . then lowered his arm again. An eyebrow cocked. ". . . It's not here, Alphonse."

Alphonse cast his brother a sideways glance, silver eyes sparking eerily through the gloom. "Not. . . ?" he repeated, clearly irked. "I thought that that you said this was the church, Edward. His church. Where it happened. . . to him; to us." He brushed his neck subconsciously.

"So I thought," Edward murmured darkly, fixing his hat with a thumb. His mouth had pulled downward in irritation. "And so I still think. I know it was here those many years ago. However. . ." He sighed, tightening his red cloak around his pale body as he sank down upon a pew. ". . . can it really be 1931 already?"

"Time stops for no-one," Alphonse returned quietly, calming; sinking next to his companion. His long auburn locks swayed with his every movements. "No-one except us."

Edward didn't respond. Instead, he fingered his bangles and earrings, contemplating. Then he sighed, resting his chin against his laced hands. "It all began here. . ." he whispered, his old wounds throbbing. "It should all end here, too."

"And so it will," Alphonse soothed, resting his hand upon his brother's leg. "It will be okay. If we cannot find the one our sire made, we will simply continue making one ourselves."

There was a brief pause of consideration; Edward straightened, glancing towards the altar. ". . . How far are we, then? How much more do we need?"

"I do not know. But it cannot be much more."

Neither spoke, listening instead to the silence as it pressed closer; bodies slowly filling with the knowledge of what they were about to do. What they needed to do. What they _wanted _to do.

"No one will notice," Alphonse assured, tenderly trailing his fingers up and down his brother's inner thigh. "This town is only a shadow of what it used to be. Remember when we were small? Now there are only 34 people. I could smell them all."

"As could I. And yet. . . though it is not here. . ." Edward muttered distractedly for the second time, pulling out his revolver and cocking it purposefully. Again, he raised the barrel, giving the trigger a feather-light squeeze. Good. He readied, aimed—

_BANG_.

The chest of the crucifix crumbled around the silver bullet, and instantly an ocean of red liquid seeped to the surface of the metal skin: trickling down the statue's long legs, falling like raindrops to the dusty ground. Alphonse hissed in surprise and desire, jolting forward as if to move—then stopped. He cast his brother a longing look.

Edward nodded.

And he watched silently as Alphonse stood, sliding forward, pressing his lips to the ancient effigy and licking, sucking, drinking away the essence of all who had lost their lives there, so many years before. . .

"He used too many," Edward said to himself, watching the leftover souls trickle down his brother's pale chin; smeared like chocolate on the lips of a toddler. "He didn't need to sacrifice them all. Nearly an entire city before running. . . Did he do it on accident, or on purpose?" He looked towards the ceiling, as if it would answer him. Inexpressive angels returned the stare, but did not respond— too busy pealing away.

"Brother," Alphonse called, his voice echoing through the church. His eyes shone brightly, illuminated a rosy red. "Brother, there is plenty for you. So much. . . Perhaps we won't need the villagers after all. Perhaps this will be enough to create it: enough Life to create our Death—to create the Stone."

Edward, pleasantly distracted from his thoughts, smiled faintly as he noiselessly got to his feet. "I doubt it, little brother," he whispered, sliding like a shadow to the other's side; leaning over and lightly licking away the access blood. (Alphonse shivered at the contact, wrapping his arms around the other's neck.) "Nothing is ever that easy. Father made it that way on purpose."

Alphonse frowned, pouting out his bottom lip; his sharpened teeth catching the light of the stars. "Why did he curse us so?" he asked quietly, and not for the first time. "If _he_ hated it so much. . . if _he_ created a Stone to turn back and die. . . Why?"

His elder brother smirked slightly, leaning closer to lovingly nip the other's throat.

"Because he is the Devil."

**X**

There was crying. Crying in pain, fear, sadness. . . always the same silent weeping, as if something inside was dying. Some piece of humanity. And though they did not sob aloud, (privately or otherwise,) they passively allowed the stained tears to fall. But stoic they always remained.

". . . How old do you think he was?" Alphonse suddenly inquired, indifferent; glancing back towards the town. It crackled and glowed through the darkness, lit from the cinders of the church. Edward's anger personified.

"Who?" the older brother questioned, monotonous. "The boy?"

"Yes."

"Quite old. . . perhaps 100."

"Brother," Alphonse frowned, stopping his horse in the middle of the dark road. "That is not true and you know it. He was only a child."

Edward shrugged. "Well, how would I know? Appearances can be deceiving. He may have been 1,000. But it doesn't matter anymore, does it? Once death comes, the years are blissfully pointless."

Alphonse didn't reply for a moment—nudging his horse to begin walking again. "So our goal. . ." he then paraphrased, "is to become pointless?"

"Yes."

He wasn't sure how he felt about that: to allow all of the memories of good times to fritter away into nothingness. Wasn't existence, no matter how horrible, worth something? But as they continued on, the metallic taste of child and death still on his lips, Alphonse decided that the plan was a good one.

(He clutched his cross.)

For pointless things could not hurt people.


	19. Karma

_**Disclamer: **Yeah, sure. Whatever! XD _

**Author's Note:** My friend Su-chan has been working her ass off for me, and so, in exchange, I'm giving her what she wants—more Smoker!Ed after having read my fic "One Wish." So here you go, Summer. But when Ed dies of lung cancer, it'll be all your fault. ;)

**Dedication: **_For Su-chan. Enjoy. XD  
_

_**Warnings:** Elricest. AND SMOKING. I DO NOT advocate smoking. I hate it! I really do. It's gross and it kills you. But during this time period, people didn't know that—smoking was just as normal as wearing shoes, I guess. So there you go. _

PS. This is post-movie. WWII-ish.

**XXX  
**

**Karma**

**  
XXX**

If there was one thing he'd noticed in his travels, it was that it was always colder on the sea.

Edward smiled slightly, his wistful gaze fixed on an unseen horizon, leaning against the icy red railing. It creaked a bit with age, but kept steady despite the sway of the water-bound vessel. Mostly silent; the empty night punctured with the rippling swirl of the ocean beneath them.

So much better than the sound of guns. . .

The blonde winced, hugging himself against the playful autumn breeze. _'Don't think about it,_' his mind automatically advised, consciously trying to salvage his thoughts before they spun out of control. '_**Don't think about it**. . . it's all behind us, now._'

And it was. So he didn't.

Instead, he sighed—slowly, tentatively; releasing the air from his tense lungs. Then, seeing that he was alone on the frosted deck, reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet of cigarettes. He looked at them guiltily. . . before shrugging, lighting one up all the same.

After all he'd been through, he was allowed one or two bad habits.

"Just one or two," he murmured to himself, closing his eyes and breathing in; savoring the salty air, the biting wind, the heavy smoke—

"Do you think that if you stare at Orion's belt long enough, it'll come off?"

"!" Nearly leaping a mile, Edward choked; only just managing to grab the barrier before toppling over in surprise. "Al!" he gasped, clutching his heart as if to restart it—glaring at his baby brother from over his shoulder. "What're you doing up so late?"

Alphonse, dressed in a long white nightshirt that shot boldly past his knees, cocked his head, arching an eyebrow. "I could ask you the same thing," he retorted, running a hand though his recently clipped hair. "It's past midnight. I know that the stars are pretty, but we can see them when we reach America. It's dangerous to stay out so late. If you fall overboard, no one will know!"

". . .If I fall overboard at this point," Ed returned with a smirk, blowing a coiling ribbon of smoke in his sibling's direction, "it will be entirely your fault, so I'd expect _you'd_ rescue me."

"Don't count on it," Al warned darkly, but with a loving smile. "That water looks pretty cold. I might just throw you a rope and let you hold on."

The older teen laughed, twisting around completely; back to the rail. Then he grinned at his brother, tapping ashes off the tip of his cigarette. "As long as you don't mind a life time of cold shoulders afterward." Chortling, he arched—staring directly up at the heavens. "Provided I live through a night in freezing water."

". . ." The brunette frowned slightly, walking up to stand beside Ed. "Perhaps the water will clear your head," he said, as if in passing, but with a stern note tucked into the statement. "Make you give up those death sticks." Glancing over, he scrutinized the cigarette between his brother's lips, giving it a meaningful once over. The end burned brightly through the darkness. "What do you see in those, anyway? They're gross."

Edward rolled his eyes, used to this discussion; scooting an inch closer to Al's warmth. "There's nothing wrong with them. If there were, people wouldn't sell them."

"Like guns, right? No one would sell them if they were dangerous."

". . . touché. All right, how about that they clear my head?"

"Really?" Alphonse snorted, mouth curling upward in a tiny little smile. "Explain this to me. _How_ do they clear your head? They make the rest of the room all dirty. You get ash everywhere, and the smell clings to your clothes." His brow furrowed, apparently deep in thought. ". . . do they taste good?"

Sensing that he wasn't about to get out of this one, Ed blew out his cheeks—and a wavering wreath of azure smoke. ". . . no," he then admitted, albeit a bit slowly. "It actually tastes quite horrible."

Al blinked, taken aback. "What? Then why do you do it?"

". . ." Edward didn't respond for a moment—choosing instead to reposition himself, so that he and his brother were now 'glued' side-to-side—retrieving the cigarette from his mouth; a third puff of smoke drifting from his lips. "Ever heard of karma?"

"Karma?" the younger male echoed, evidently confused. "Sure. It's a cousin of Equivalent Exchange: what goes around, comes around."

". . . I hate this," Ed muttered quietly, breathing in another deep lungful. His arms hung over the edge; over the sea. "I hate smoking, but at the same time, I love it. Because it's almost like repentance. . . the horrible taste, the lingering smoke; it's a fire. And fire consumes everything, even sin. The more I smoke, the more I feel like I'm repaying some debt—like the bad karma is being negated."

Alphonse considered this silently for a minute or two, watching floating clouds form patterns against the star-kissed heavens. Then—without word or warning—he reached over and plucked the cigarette from Edward's mouth.

"Wha—? Hey, Al—!"

"Quiet, Brother," Al demanded sharply—though his eyes were sympathetic, gentle; seating himself on the edge of the barrier and looping his feet through the gaps. "You're not the only one with sins. . . I'm sick of you trying to carry _both_ our burdens."

And he took a long, deliberate drag, expelling an extensive blue spiral of smoke into his sibling's shocked face.

". . . you've really grown up, haven't you, Al?"

"Good of you to notice," Alphonse quipped, winking. He flicked the cigarette in imitation of Edward, watching the ash crumble into the gloom. "I'm 18, Brother. Not 8."

"No. . . you're certainly not." Ed smiled softly into the determinedly rebellious face of his younger sibling. He really was becoming a fine young man. . . " Well, in that case. . ." he then surrendered, hopping up beside the boy, "I better learn to share."

"Damn straight." Both grinned; leaning back to gaze up at the sky. It was beautiful, at night. . . and so close, as if they could reach out and touch it. Just like the nights back home.

". . . so. . . do I get my cigarette back, or what?"

Al smirked. "Mmm, no. I don't think so. Get yourself a new one."

"_What_? Those things are expensive! Let's just share."

He paused; he leered; he puckered—teasingly nudging his brother with his free hand. "If you're looking for kisses, they don't have to be indirect; just ask."

Ed blushed, now fumbling in his pocket for a fresh one. "Al!"

They laughed.

And there they sat— until dawn—; the owners of the two cigarettes watching their sins vanish into smoke.


	20. Amen

**Disclaimer: **Nope.

**Author's Note:** Just a little Elricesty poem I wrote while working on chapter seven of Skeletons. Hope you enjoy!

**Warnings:** ELRICEST. (For everyone who hasn't noticed yet, YES, that is the fandom I write for in FMA.) Also, mentions of guilty!armor sex and stuff. XD

**XXX**

Once upon a distant time

Before committing natural crimes

Before we knew of human wrongs

Before the end of mother's songs

Before the Truth, before the lies

Before the nights of rainy skies

Before we understood the path

Before we knew we'd seen the last

Of happy days of endless light

The final words, the final sight

The drifting tune we heard on air:

_Beware, beware, beware, beware_

**X**

For angels who have turned from Him

Are torn apart within their sin

And though we didn't know the cost

We are forever surely lost

**X**

Amen, amen, amen, amen

I say the words again, amen

Forgive us, Father, for our acts

If only we could take them back

**X**

Once upon a far-off night

After all our futile plights

After all our costly vices

After all your sacrifices

After all our dreams lay dead

After all the staining red

After all the lessons learnt

After all the sights were burnt

Into our childish, tear-filled eyes

The facts that we could not disguise

Sadness falls in droplets; wet:

_Regret, regret, regret, regret_

**X**

For angels who have turned from Him

Are cruelly punished in their sin

And though we're paying back the cost

We know we are forever lost

**X**

Amen, amen, amen, amen

I say the words again, amen

Forgive us, Father, for our acts

I wish that we could take them back

**X**

Once upon a past-night's dream

Woken by a sobbing scream

Woken by nightmarish lands

Woken by the armor's hand

Woken by a brush of lips

Woken by a deepened kiss

Woken by a mad desire

Woken by a flame stoked higher

As we forfeit promised prudence

Moving as two brothers' shouldn't

The heat explodes; a husky moan:

_Atone, atone, atone, atone_

**X**

For angels who have turned from Him

Are swallowed whole by their own sin

And though we're suffering the cost

Within desires we are lost

**X**

Amen, amen, amen, amen

I say the words again, amen

Forgive us, Father, for our acts

For all the things we can't take back

**X**

Once upon tomorrow's hope

When with our problems we have coped

When we have reached our final goal

When in my body, is my soul

When we can always stay together

When we guarantee forever  
When we choose to drop our guise

When I wake and realize

That all these hopes have come to life  
Gone are all the times of strife

I'm here to hold and love again:  
_Amen, amen, amen, amen_

**X**

But angels who have turned from Him

Are all condemned within their sin

And though we've paid the promised cost

Within these feelings we are lost

**X**

Amen, amen, amen, amen

I say the words again, amen

Forgive us, Father, for our acts

For all the things we won't take back

**X**

Amen, amen, amen, amen

I will not turn from him again

For all the acts in which we touch—

For all the acts I love too much—

For all the acts that make us one—

For all the acts we'll do; have done—

For all the acts that are taboo—

For all the acts that insult You—

Forgive us, Father, for these acts

As we will never take them back

**XXX**


	21. Feel

_Disclaimer: FMA no mine._

_Author's Note: Just a little (very little) idea I had for my two favorite alchemists. XD This is set right after the movie—probably the Elric's first night together in Munich._

_Enjoy!_

**XXX  
**

**Feel **

XXX

Alphonse frowned lightly in the wake of the question, tilting his head in _that_ way—the adorable, perplexed way that Ed had missed so much. Then, with the smallest of smiles, the younger boy knelt before his brother and cupped his hands around the cool weight of Edward's automail, pressing his lips to the chilled fingertips.

"Did you feel that?" he asked the other quietly, hazel eyes downcast and framed by thick lashes.

Ed, from his seat on the ancient mattress, flushed a brilliant hue of crimson before responding: "N—no…"

"But you know that I did it, right?" Al pressed, running his fingers ceaselessly over the smooth planes of steel. "You knew that I kissed you, even though you couldn't physically feel it?"

"I may not have been able to feel it physically," the older boy murmured, blonde locks spilling in bright waves over his shoulder: a cheerful shade of sunshine in comparison to his dark commoners' clothes. "But I felt it in my heart."

Alphonse beamed, face burning scarlet. "Exactly," he agreed, pressing the heavy prosthetic to his cheek. "And that was how I knew... I felt you in my heart."

Golden eyes warm with affection, Edward smiled, leaning forward; his forehead met his sibling's with an affectionate, comforting nudge. Crisp white linen, ratty ruby fabric, four pairs of woven gloves: all mixed as the pair embraced—a light, desperate sort of reassurance.

Alphonse closed his eyes, sighing contentedly.

"…I can feel you now, Brother."

Tears. Warm and wet and salty; denied. But Alphonse could feel them against his neck all the same, slipping beneath the collar of his black shirt. And he savored the tingling sensation as Edward tightened his hold: thankful, terrified, timid, never wanting to let go.

"I know, Al," he whispered, pressing his lips to his brother's throat. "I know."

**XXX**


	22. Pretend

_Disclaimer: Nope._

_Author's Note: Just one of those ideas that popped into meh head and refused to go away. --; _

_Enjoy! XD_

**WARNING: THIS IS RATED "R" FOR SEXUAL SITUATIONS.**

**XXX **

X

**Pretend **

X

XXX

"You want me to touch you, don't you?" he whispers, hisses through the shadows like a curse. The soft, overly sweet sound tickles the blonde's sensitive ear; a scalding moistness trails the outer shell. A groan, a strangled shriek.

"Y— yes…!"

The darkness tastes like garbage: garbage and heat and disgust. The brunette sneers; the blonde starts to cry—streaming silent rivers. They are ignored.

"Oh? Even though it's wrong?"

The taller man chuckles softly; the boy drops gracelessly to his knees: panting, moaning, begging, as his blind fingers scratch at the wall. "_Please_—!"

In response, an unforgiving foot kicks his legs apart; he grins as the blonde topples helplessly forward. The slimy bricks tear painfully at his flushed cheeks; he begins to mewl and whine, thrashing and throbbing with need.

His noises make the silence sing.

After a moment of amused observation, a frozen hand darts forward: cupping the smaller man's backside, lifting it. The blonde's face drags down the rough wall; his neck is about to snap. Neither notices.

The taller one smirks, digging his nails into the boy's slender hips. "Mmm," he purrs, tongue lashing the other's throat. "What a bad boy you are…" His thick lashes flutter, silver eyes half-lidded: wickedly sensual. "…_Nii-san_."

Edward chokes on a sob. "Al…!"

"Such a _bad boy_," the brunette continues nonchalantly; the notches of Ed's belt click out of place. Stained leather pants are pealed slowly away, as if skinning a piece of fruit. "Wanting your own brother like this? For shame, for shame… What _would_ our mother say?"

"I'm sorry—!"

The _crack_ of skin on skin resonated through the smoggy air. For a moment, Edward couldn't breathe.

"Apologies won't get you very far in life, Nii-san," the boy quips, grinding his pelvis against the blonde's rump. Another muffled moan; another squelched shout. Clammy fingers smooth down Ed's front, squeezing his arousal. The young alchemist nearly faints. "They never help. You know that. I spent years in that suit of armor, didn't I? And no matter how many times you said you were sorry, it didn't bring my body back. It didn't keep me from blaming you. It was all your fault. And look at what you're making me do, now! Really, Nii-san, be sensible. Do you expect a simple apology to atone for _all_ the sins you've committed?"

The blonde gnashes his teeth. His bottom lip begins to bleed. "Al…!" he gasps, arching into the other's biting touch; claw-like nails rip at his back, all but shredding his ebony shirt. His cheek scrapes against the unfeeling cement, raw and wet. "Al, I'm sorry— s… so sorr— _ah_!"

A spidery hand clamps over the boy's nose and mouth; a shriek of searing pain is swallowed by flesh.

The air is thick with the stench of blood.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" the taller man snarls, round eyes narrowed in hatred. "It hurts when I do this to you…" He pulls out slowly, deliberately. His fingers move, working past the other's teeth and tearing at his gums. "But you want it anyway, don't you, Nii-san?" He pauses; all movement stills. He waits for an answer.

Unable to speak around the fingers in his mouth, Ed whimpers and gags; writhing, lifting his ass all the higher. A ribbon of redness swirls down his bruised thighs. The brunette smirks.

This time, nothing can silence Edward's scream.

**X**

He doesn't remember when or how or why. He doesn't remember the beginning of this nightmare; the start of this cycle. He doesn't remember the first time, or the second, or the third… But there has been so many— oh so very many. Only God knows the exact number; he doesn't remember, can't remember. Not now, anyway. He never remembers _anything_ after he finishes, collapsing in a trembling heap at the other's feet.

The brunette watches him shiver wordlessly, cold revulsion in his silver eyes. "…not dead yet, huh?"

Edward doesn't reply; he can't. He's drowning in blood and saliva, choking on air. He needs to breathe… he can't recall how.

A scoff, a snort. A crackling sound. "You're _pathetic_."

The blonde smiles slightly, as if in agreement. Again, the other snorts. He flips his hair over his shoulder, leaving the alley and the injured alchemist far behind.

He has other things to do.

**X**

The Inn is frighteningly familiar by this point, and Alphonse can't help but hate himself for it: the golden candlelight; the wooden tables; the dark bedrooms in the rear. He knows it all like the back of his hand… he knows it all too well.

Poking noiselessly at his tankard of ale, he waits; watching the wooden door with shame-filled silver eyes. His insides squirm. His pants are tight.

The door opens and there he is.

"Nii-san…"

The blonde boy sees him, smirks; he glides over with a suggestive sway of his hips. Al moistens his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, trying to gulp down his guilt. As always, he fails.

An icy hand flits across his shoulders, running through his hair. "Hey, Al," a soft voice purrs, wonderfully dark and sinfully sweet. Amber eyes glitter with abhorrence and sick amusement. "And how's my favorite customer?"

Alphonse doesn't reply. Instead, he stands and follows the smaller boy towards a bedroom, tossing money to the Innkeeper. Then he closes his eyes and tries not to cry.

'_I'm sorry, Nii-san.'_

**X **

X

X

XXX


	23. Arrays

_Disclaimer: I don't own FMA. At all. Dammit._

_Author's Note: Xmas Sentences, dedicated to my friend Lessa:D Enjoy! _

(PS. Please note, "Special" was inspired by another fanfic… who's author and title I cannot think of right now. ;;; Credit to whoever inspired it, though! Same with "Tug of War." X3

_Oh, and "Glass" was brought about by a wallpaper I have.) _

_**Arrays**_

**  
—A Collection of Fullmetal Alchemist Sentences & Mini Ficlets—**

**xXx**

**Angel**

He'd always called himself agnostic; denied the existence of angels or God… but in the azure glow of the transmutation, Alphonse swore he could see Ed's wings.

**xXx**

**Cuffs**

_I may hate Cornello_, Al thought with an unseen smile, _but I _do_ like some of his ideas…_

**xXx**

**Alone**

"I'm never alone," Al told her firmly, eyes on the circle he was stitching into his gloves. "This body of mine—this life I now have. They are both a gift from Ed. They were bought at the cost of his sacrifice, and therefore, they are a part of him. And so he is I and I am he; and we are always together."

**xXx**

**Snowfall**

He closed his hands—one metal, one flesh—and silently savored the burn of ice… the coldness of warmth.

**xXx**

"**Annabel Lee"**

"_For the moon never beams without brining me dreams…"_

He sat, as he always did, beside the cold window: watching the moonlight reflect off the snow. Trance-like, dream-like… Heiderich sometimes wondered if his friend was still alive, somewhere in the depths of his subconscious.

Edward smiled faintly, glassy eyes vacant.

Heiderich turned away.

"_And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes…"_

**xXx**

**Tug of War**

Back, forth; back, forth—slippery, hot, exhausting. Tossing his head with a husky moan, the blonde continues playing: tugging and pulling, faster and faster, until the game ends, his mind exploding with pleasure.

**xXx**

**Formation**

Shielding his eyes against the vibrant harvest moon, Edward watched the graceful gaggle, wordlessly marveling the beauty of the Natural Law.

**xXx**

**Amestrian Lullaby**

Ed smiled tenderly, leaning against the bedroom's doorframe: watching Al rock their tiny baby beneath the glowing, star-strewn sky.

**xXx**

**Prayer**

He didn't believe in God, but still—in the wake of his clapped hands, he found himself thinking: "Thank you."

**xXx**

**Love**

"Just once more," Alphonse begged, silver eyes wide in the rippling moonlight. "Please, even if it's a lie… just tell me one more time."

**xXx**

**Special**

To watch Ed transmute was an amazing thing— amazing to realize that there would never again be creations as wondrous, or an alchemist as skilled… or even a duplication of his methods. There couldn't be, for his _mind_ was the array: three dimensional, twisting, turning, colorful, and complete in a way that paper wasn't.

**xXx**

**Silence**

_You know you're close to someone_, Alphonse thought with a grin, _when you're understood without saying a word._

Simultaneously, the brothers closed their books and left the library.

**xXx**

"**Dream Within a Dream"**

"…_You are not wrong, who deem_

_That my days have been a dream…"_

And sometimes—sitting there, alone, hopeless, helpless, on the windowsill—he began to wonder which world was true reality.

"…_Is _all_ that we see or seem_

_But a dream within a dream?"_

**xXx**

**Eyes**

Affectionate: Warm. Crackling embers in a hearth, heating chilled bones.

Angry: Scalding. Molten gold, rippling, swirling; white-hot in the flames.

Hurt: Cold. Cooled metal, deadened and heavy.

Sad: Chilled. Amber and topaz and other such gems—beautiful in their solidity, heart-breaking in their history. Old pain; bloody wars. Death.

Happy: Bright. Sparkling, shining, glowing; a sun, a star, a world all its own. Passion and perfection… a tenderness worth more than all the riches in the universe.

**xXx**

**Stigma**

The marks blossomed on his wrists, forehead, feet…bruises and welts and cuts and scrapes but oh, if it was for his brother—if his pain was enough to earn Al back—then he would never stop.

**xXx**

**Like**

"I like girls, you know," Ed hissed, swathing a heated path down Alphonse's neck. Snaps sounded, buttons popped, clothes flew. The bed groaned. Moaning airily, Al arched into his brother's desperate touch.

"So do I," the younger boy breathed, silver eyes alive with passion. He laced his fingers through Edward's golden hair, pulling him down into a kiss.

_But we love each other._

**xXx**

**Sin**

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I have experienced a love so pure, so agonizingly sweet…" The blonde swallowed thickly, voice lowering, "…that God himself , in jealousy, forbid it."

**xXx**

**Name**

I hated it when he'd do it: touch me, hold me, love me… I hated it; it made me miss you all the more. But I let him, because I was lonely and scared and couldn't stand the thought of losing any more of you.

It was your name I called, Al. I swear; every time. But still, I felt sick—for it was his name, too.

**xXx **

Fireflies

The brightest lights of their world, carefully caught and stored in jam jars… Ed and Al giggled, laughed, and twirled with their homemade lantern through the dark summer twilight.

**xXx**

**Contamination**

He kissed him— over and over, over and over; for Heiderich had contaminated him, and Brother needed to be cleaned.

**xXx**

**Glass**

Al could see him through the glass—through the Gate, through his dreams. See him, hear him, nearly touch him… always just out of reach. Beyond his grasp.

_Brother! Brother! Brother, come back!_

He screamed, wept, pounded incessantly… but Ed, all alone in the darkness, simply smiled, pressing his palms to the barrier.

_You're alive…_

And that was all he needed.

**xXx**

**Narcissism**

Hair, clothes, crest, coat… Al ran gloved fingers down his chest, eyes closed; seeking the similarities he missed so much.

**xXx**

**No More**

"Just tonight," Ed whispered, curling around his brother. "Just tonight, Al… and that's all."

**xXx**

**How**

And how, Ed wondered savagely, was one supposed to tell their _baby brother_ that they loved him?

**xXx**

**Eternity**

Equivalent Exchange effects all… and in the end, even the Gate had to give the brothers something.


	24. Welcome Home

_Disclaimer: Nope._

_Author's Note: Written for my friend Lessa for Xmas. Like most of the FMA fanfics I'm posting today, really. But she's nice, and likes to share. (Thank you, Lessa!) _

**X **

Welcome Home

**X**

And then they were gone.

Both of them; gone. Forever. From our lives, from our home, from our world. Vanished— as if they'd never been. Vanished… leaving me behind.

I hated them. All of them: Edward, for choosing to go; Alphonse, for choosing to follow; Mustang, for letting them. It was too much… For a while, all I could do was cry. They were my friends; we'd grown up together. And now…

Hadn't it been enough for Ed to be taken, and Al's memories lost? Hadn't it been enough to watch Al suffer alone, to see him try and relearn all he'd forgotten? Hadn't it been enough to realize that, no matter how hard I tried, I could never earn their love…?

No.

No, it hadn't. And so they had left me, too. I blinked, and they were gone.

…but maybe it's better this way. Maybe—maybe, if they can be in a world where no one knows they're brothers. If they can be in a world more accepting than our own. If they can be in a world together. If they can just _be._

That's all they want. That's all they've ever wanted. To be able to see one another, hold one another; kiss and smile and say "I'm home."

I… I _am_ happy for you, Ed, Al. Really, I swear: I'm happy that you've won. I'm happy that you've been given the chance to try again. I'm _happy_—and through the tears, I can see you in my mind: laughing, holding hands, sharing stories… like it should be.

I'll miss you guys.

But welcome to you new home.


	25. Transmutations

_Disclaimer: FMA no mine._

_Author's Note: Again, written for my friend Lessa for Xmas. "Equivalent Exchange" was inspired by a friend of mine named Savannah, who is amazing. :3 (PS. Subliminal Message: Read her stuff!)_

**oOo **

Transmutations

**A Second Collection of Fullmetal Alchemist Sentences & Mini Ficlets**

**oOo**

**Colors  
**

"You were made to wear reds and golds," Alphonse said firmly, plucking the drab brown coat from his bemused brother's shoulders. "Not these depressing shades of gray."  
**  
oOo**

**Change**

As the winds of change blew, the siblings only held tighter to the other's hand.

**oOo**

**Luv M355ag35**

Blushing brightly, Alphonse smiled down at his cell phone, saved the text message he'd just received, and winked at his pleased brother from across the classroom.

**oOo**

**Letter**

He didn't know where he was—what had happened—why he was here: alone, cold, naked… sad. But in the pocket of the tarnished red coat he'd found on the floor, there was a note. Crumpled, worn, battered and frayed…

But addressed to him.

_Dear Al,_ it read, in a strong, slanted script he barely recognized, _I don't know if you'll ever see this letter. If you don't… that's probably a good thing. It'll mean that I finally found the courage to say this to your face, rather than cower behind a piece of paper and pen. But as I doubt that will ever be the case, I… I wrote this to tell you that I'm sorry._

_I'm sorry, Al, for all that I took from you: your body, your childhood, your dreams, your freedom. I'm sorry that being my baby brother has caused you so much pain and regret. I'm sorry that you've had to put up with me, idiot that I am; I'm sorry that I'm such a burden. _

_But I'm trying. And I will fulfill my promises to you, Al. I'll get your body back—I'll set you free. Even if I _die_ trying… I'll save you. I'll save you… because I owe you. Because I need you. Because I miss you. I miss your smile, your eyes, your embrace; everything. I miss my little brother._

_That and— well…_

_Someday, Al. Someday I'll tell you all of this…all of this and more. When our dreams come true; when life is the way it once was. When we're whole and together and happy again. Then I'll tell you._

_Until then, remember: no matter what happens… I'll always love you._

_Your Only Brother, _

_Edward_

**oOo**

**Scream**

Their first kiss had been on a Wednesday: 4:00, right after school. May, warm, sunny, blue— perfect. Well, it _would_ have been... If only Winry hadn't come to tell them that _YuGiOh _was on, and found them hiding behind the family's hibiscus bush.

**oOo**

**Proof**

"If I can't have living proof," Edward whispered through the darkness, though to who he wasn't certain, "just proof that he's _living_ will do…"

**oOo  
**

**Roommates I**

It was difficult, at first, to get used to the antics of the—for lack of a more appropriate phrase—_very _close brothers; but as time wore on, Heiderich's heart softened… and he found himself moved by their pure-hearted love.

**oOo **

Roommates II

_Still_, Heiderich thought weakly, face red and mind permanently scarred, _I wished they'd at least _try_ to keep it down!  
_**  
oOo**

**Share**

"You'll share that with me," Al breathed—husky and sweet—, his silver eyes glittering with mischief as Edward opened a box of pocky, "won't you?"

The older boy grinned widely, sticking a piece in his mouth.

"Come get it."

**oOo**

**Thank You, Al**

Pictures were big, back then: new, exciting, expensive. They couldn't afford it, but Alphonse really wanted one— _"Just one, Brother!"_—, and Edward was helpless to his pleas. He surrendered; they posed for their portrait on Al's 16th birthday.

"_Thank you, Ed!"_ he'd squealed, covering the blonde's face with kisses. _"Thank you so much!"_

"…" The elderly man smiled down at the worn photograph, tracing Al's outline with a fingertip.

It was funny how—in the end—he was more grateful for the photo than Alphonse could ever have been.

**oOo**

**New**

It was amusing to watch Al, his first few years on Earth—when everything was new and fresh and he was full of questions and beautiful, awe-filled smiles.

**oOo**

**Rescue**

"Why, you must be my knight in shining armor," Alphonse teased, pressing a chaste kiss to his brother's automail and laughing when he had to duck a playful punch.

**oOo**

**Reflection**

_It's almost like he's back in the armor,_ the man thought, watching the young boy study studiously in the corner of the library. _Back when Fullmetal's reflection on his steel body was the closest to human he could be. _

The Ed look-alike turned a page.

Mustang left the room in stony silence.

**oOo  
**

**Halloween**

The Elric brothers loved Halloween: loved putting their costumes on, loved messing around in the leaves, loved getting candy from neighbors… but—most of all—loved "messing around" and "sharing" their candy as they tore their costumes _off_.  
**  
oOo**

**Tease**

It was the cruelest, coldest, most diabolical thing Al could do… and Ed enjoyed every minute of it: whining and writhing, watching his brother kiss and suck his insensible automail fingers; wishing, wanting, _needing_ to feel that tongue and heat and knowing he very soon would.

**oOo  
**

**Want**

"All I want…" he breathed into the silence, "is to keep on loving you."  
**  
oOo**

**Animated**

To watch Edward work was a beautiful thing: the intelligence in his eyes, the thrill in his smile, the spring in his step… and Alphonse found that he'd much rather look at his brother than complete his own share of the research.

**oOo**

**Holiday**

"_Nothin' else will do,_" Al sang cheerfully, dancing his way to the front door with a grin and one of his freshly baked cookies. As if on cue, a work-weary Edward entered, opened his mouth to speak— and promptly had the sweet stuffed into it.

The blonde blinked; his brother giggled.

After having been sufficiently gagged, a very jolly Alphonse began dancing with Ed up the stairs to their bedroom… and was pleased to see a grin blossoming on his lover's face. "_Baby, all I want for Christmas is you!"_

**oOo**

**Quote**

Edward gingerly traced his brother's sleeping face, his mouth smiling but golden eyes sad. "Of all the people in the world…" he breathed, brushing a strand of hair behind Al's ear, "you had to choose me."

"_Your love makes me, at once, the happiest and the unhappiest of men."_  
Ludwig von Beethoven

**oOo**

**Oyasuminai**

Stretching, straining, reaching for the sky… Alphonse curled his fingers, then his arms, wrapping the lonely stars in a tender hug.

"Good night, Brother… wherever you are."  
**  
oOo**

**Hair**

_It's grown longer._

Al frowned sadly, counting the new loops—one, two, three: a notch for each year he'd been missing from Ed's life. A notch for each year Ed had been missing from his own. A notch for each year they'd spent apart, searching, forlorn.

_But that's changed, now. Changed for the better._

"Al…?" Edward suddenly shifted, tilting his head, trying to see his younger brother. "You okay…?"

Alphonse kissed the tips of the silky plait, ignoring the question. "Mhm… All right, Nii-san," he murmured, smiling softly, "I'm done braiding your hair."

**oOo  
**

**Favorite**

Through the years, their favorite pastime was to lie together in the sun—talking, laughing, simply _being_— as they watched the day go by.  
**  
oOo**

**Short**

"Part of the military?"

The townsfolk whispered and muttered behind their cupped hands, exchanging glancing as they eyed the unfamiliar pair. "The Fullmetal Alchemist?"

"But I've never seen a State Alchemist who looked like _that_. I mean, that coat…? Where's his uniform?"

"Yeah!"

"Where's your uniform, Fullmetal Alchemist?"

A tinny, nervous chuckle echoed from the inside of Al's armor; Ed's face twisted in fury… all the same, he managed to grind out: "…_they didn't have one my size_."  
**  
oOo**

**Equivalent Exchange**

Human kind cannot gain anything without first giving something in return. To obtain, something of equal value must be lost.

So I gave everything.

I gave everything just to be with you again.

That, to me, was equivalent exchange.  
**  
oOo**

**Really Here**

Some nights, they liked to cuddle—simply cuddle: holding and hugging and hearts as one, on through the darkness and long past the dawn.


End file.
